


Hymn of the Forsaken

by ctt



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Uchiha Clan-centric, Uchiha Sasuke-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-09-29 19:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17209544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ctt/pseuds/ctt
Summary: Canon divergence. Set in the Valley of the End. Sasuke realises the final parting gift given by his father before his death. A gift that would allow him to secure his own future on his own terms. It was a way for all the dreams, stories and lessons of the Uchiha clan to continue instead of being lost. This is a look on how people can discover their own stories, even if history has long been written by the victors.





	1. Let Us Speak

**Author's Note:**

> I always found the idea of curse of hatred vs will of fire a very one sided comparison. I guess it didn't help that the Senju were considered representative of the main character, so any that opposed it would be considered evil. If you've read my earlier work, The Elegy of the Wronged, this is a pseudo continuation of those themes. It's not too similar as the earlier work was more centered on the Sasuke-Itachi dynamic against the backdrop of what it means to really be an Uchiha. In this case, this would center more on the Uchiha-Senju dynamic and what it means to be an Uchiha.

I. Let Us Speak  
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The valley of the end.

Sasuke has finally reached it. The point that marked the border of the Land of Fire. It was a starting point or an ending point, perhaps even both.

He stood atop the statue of his ancestor, Madara, contemplative.

Madara the betrayer, as he was called in Konoha.

Madara the betrayed, the Uchiha Clan would whisper softly at the depths of their guilty hearts.

Sasuke knew that he would be following this man’s footsteps once he stepped past the valley. Konoha would begin to openly spit out his name once he pushes thru. They would name him as a treasonous filth. Would whisper that they knew all along that he could not be trusted, that Uchiha Clan was nothing more than untrustworthy vermin. This he was so certain of.

Sasuke activated his Sharingan. He wanted to remember this place at this time all too clearly. He wanted to etch in his mind the day he will no longer call himself of Konoha. He was leaving. He had made his decision. The culmination of all that he had known when Itachi buried him once again in Tsukuyomi and he screamed until he had no voice left. Until there was nothing left for him but death.

He wanted to die. All he knew was the scent of coppery blood. The sea of corpses. The warm pulse of his mother’s lifeblood as she grasped him close, trying to protect from the horror. His father, standing still as the blade sliced thru his throat in a spray of crimson.

Sasuke watched it again and again, in the thrall of Itachi‘s hellish illusion. He willed himself to pass. He so desperately wanted to leave this world. Surely, he thought, his attempt to kill his brother was enough to give him the peace he desperately sought?

“I had always hoped,” Sasuke would remember hearing as his mother’s ghostly arms transformed into steel bands keeping him teetered to life. “I would not be needed.”

He looked up, stunned. He found himself kneeling. In front of him was his father, looking right back at him as the tableau of the massacre played behind.

“Father,” Sasuke choked out.

“In a fashion,” Fugaku replied in a voice replete of grief. “I am he, yet I am not as well.”

Sasuke could only gape in response. A small smile greeted his expression as the not-Fugaku explained, “I am the memories of your father and all the previous clan heads before me. It is the way we do not forget. It is the way we pass down knowledge from one clan head to another.”

“I’m not,” he stuttered. “I...I...but bro-brother...”

“Are you not?”

Sasuke could only stared stunned as his father’s eyes whirled into a strange pinwheel. The Mangekyo Sharingan, the words would float in his mind at that sight. He knew what it was without really knowing how. It was his last vision of his father alive, before Itachi struck the killing blow.

Sasuke could feel his eyes burning. It was more than just his Sharingan activating. He could feel the familiar sensation of the Mangekyo forming. He was Fugaku seeing his friend die, all too late, all too slow. He was Hikaku bowing for forgiveness as his clan head turned his back at them, knowing he had to try this foolish dream. He was Madara seeing all his little brothers’ broken bodies. He was always too late. He was Tajima knowing he was dooming them all. He was Indra knowing his father wanted him to die. He could never love me.

He was.

He was.

He was.

He was Sasuke, watching as his whole world collapsed into a sea of lies. Konoha wanted us dead. Brother loved Konoha too much to let us live.

Sasuke opened his eyes. He was back here at the valley of the end. He knew, he had no place in this land.

This was where Naruto found him.  
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.

.

“Are you going to run away?”

The question echoed in the still air. Sasuke stared curiously at Naruto. He found it strange, the almost incandescent rage that burned in the other boy.

“Why?!” Naruto demanded amidst the silence. “What made you this way?”

“What does this have to do with you?” Sasuke replied back, puzzled. He was too exhausted to parse at the dramatics happening in front of him. The revelations these past few days took out all feeling off him, but he didn’t speak those things though. He found no reason to explain himself. It was a choice made long ago. A tangle of choices made long before he ever been born, until it’s ballooned to this mess of betrayal, ambition, sacrifice and broken promises.

“We did not want Konoha,” Fugaku would say. “I wanted Konoha to accept us.”

“I simply wanted my clan to prosper,” Madara would bare his teeth. “Not to rule.”

“I never wanted to be my father’s heir,” Indra would sigh. “I only wanted him to accept me.”

Their voices would clamour. “Why could you not understand it?”

“You can’t go,” Naruto snarled as he hauled Sasuke up to face him. “Orochimaru killed the Sandaima.”

Sasuke’s lips twitched into a rictus of a smile. _‘Konoha called for my clan’s death,’_ he thought in reply

“Tried to crush Konoha,” Naruto continued.

Sasuke could feel his body ready to burst into hysterical laughter. _‘Konoha crushed the Uchiha,’_ his mind whispered. _‘Blaming them for the tragedy they did not do. Herding us in a ghetto even if we were innocent. Isolating us. Forcing us to endure until we could no longer.’_

“And you would just go to him!’

A sneer begun to form in Sasuke’s face at every accusation. ‘Konoha got what they wanted, a reason to wipe us off the map.’

“Give him what he wants!”

“I don’t care,” Sasuke hissed back. The Uchiha had already bared their necks to the executioner. They had sacrificed so much. Why should he give more when there was nothing more left to give?

Tired of everything, Sasuke struck. He pushed Naruto away from him. Drew that invisible line that separated them. It wasn’t enough. That stubborn stupid boy refused to accept anything but his own wishes.

“I won’t let you,” Naruto cried out as he rushed towards Sasuke. His fists swinging for a strike. “I’ll take you back by force.”

Naruto’s words sent a shudder of disgust throughout his body. His mind recoiled in horror. How many times has he heard those sentiments in all the different lifetimes? And how many times have they herald nothing but ruin?

 _‘Too many to count,’_ Fugaku would smile.

Sasuke blocked the jab. He ducked and sent his knee and leg out for a vicious kick. He could feel them connect to the fleshy muscle, the resistance before it caved to the force of those two blows. He watched as Naruto careened away, falling to the brilliant blue waters before he turned his back at the sight. He would leave.

“Stop!” The roar echoed through the air. Sasuke looked back. He wasn’t sure why he did it. Perhaps it was a faint ephemeral hope that he would be able to leave peacefully. That same foolish hope that drove the clan to their reckless sacrifice.

A panting Naruto greeted his curious gaze. Standing tall on the waters, he swore, “I won’t let you go to Orochimaru even if I have to break all the bones of your arms and legs. I’ll fight you as a friend.”

 _‘What a foolish hope it was?’_ Sasuke thought upon hearing those words. It seemed to hope is to be disappointed.

 _‘The Senju, Konoha and all their ilk are alike,’_ Madara would whisper. His thoughts heavy with disillusionment. _‘They preach love and acceptance, but step out of the line and they are the quickest to turn to violence. Why endure Hikaku?’_

 _‘Because we had a dream,’_ was the equally soft reply.

“So are you serious?” Sasuke challenged as he slowly began to unravel the wires wrapped on his wrist.

“Yes,” Naruto cried out. “Do you think he will give you power?”

 _‘Protection,’_ Sasuke scoffed silently as he threw the kunais towards Naruto. _‘Better the devil you know that is invested in you living, even just for a moment, than those slyly braying for your blood.’_

He could still remember awakening in his Tsukiyomi induced coma. The cautious way he was treated. The scads of Anbu stealthily following him. The probing questions of the elders, trying to parse out his loyalty. Trying to see what he knew. His ever so subtly ransacked home. He wasn’t a victim, but a potential enemy.

The blades sang through the air, while their target ran, dodging.

“You might not come back. Be killed.”

_‘As opposed to Konoha who must keep this secret at all costs in order to maintain power. Do you think they will allow me to live with what I know?’_

The miss didn’t matter. He had expected it. They were just thrown to lay a crisscrossing trap of wires.

“Wake up already,” Naruto shouted as he tried to rush into him. “I’ll break you like a stick and bring you back immobile.”

 _‘Perhaps you should wake up,’_ he thought. Sasuke could feel himself baring his teeth as he ducked the blow and herded his opponent back into the tangle mess of wires. _‘Are you so desperate for acceptance that you would be willing to sell yourself for a cup of kindness?'_

“I’ll beat back your old self!” Was Naruto’s cry.

“How can you say you know me?” Sasuke spat out. He was truly becoming angry. How typical of a selfish fool. A dead-last who never understood the way of the world and revelled in his own ignorance. ‘ _You are the same hypocrite, where only your wishes matter.‘_ he condemned.

Sasuke did not care. He sprung the trap. He set flames running through the wires in a deadly web, engulfing Naruto in the conflagration. Water, fire and chakra churned, before exploding into a mess. Steam rushed everywhere.

Just as sudden as the explosion, a heavy miasma coated the air. It was dark, dreary and feral. Sasuke stiffened. The hairs at the back of his neck stood. Cautiously, he activated his Sharingan. Even if it was an unfamiliar sensation, it felt of danger. He could feel the Uchiha Clan heads perking up. They knew what it is, though they were strangely silent. Poised. Waiting.

Pain bloomed. An explosive force hit Sasuke, sending him flying towards the water. For a split second, he saw narrowed feral eyes. Could feel the sneering pity of Madara. The heavy regret of Indra.

Sasuke struggled to keep himself on top of the water. Naruto rushed to him, raining punishing blows. It robbed him of his breath, and he was sent out unto the hard packed earth.

 _‘The Jinchuriki,’_ Madara intoned. _‘Hashirama’s conceit.’_

 _‘Kyuubi,’_ Indra sighed. _‘My father’s accursed sin.’_

Naruto pounced after him. Sasuke watched as the fist flew towards him. A parry by the arm and he followed by a jab from a elbow. A kick and an answered block. On and on they fought with Naruto’s swings becoming wilder. His presence was becoming heavier and more feral. His strikes were becoming harder and faster. It was enough for a millisecond of advantage, and Sasuke found himself once again at his opponent’s mercy.

He found himself at the ground, half strangled. A hit at the face. Again and again. One, two, three.

“I’ll break you back to your old self!”

Each blow rattled Sasuke’s skull. He could taste blood. Could feel every pant of his breath. His eyes throbbed. The Mangekyo was itching to be released. Not yet, he cautioned.

“What do you know about me?” Sasuke spat. He met Naruto’s nearly crazed eyes. “Someone like you without family or siblings who has nothing in the first place understand me?” Sasuke continued as Naruto’s eyes ever so slightly cleared from their haze. “We suffer because of those bonds what do you know what it feels to loose them.”

“I don’t know,” was Naruto’s confused reply. The Kyuubi’s presence retreated, waiting into the wings to pounce. “Iruka Sensei feels like a father. When I’m with you, it feels like a brother. It’s one of the first bonds I have that’s why I have to stop you.”

Sasuke closed his eyes just as the Mangekyo bloomed. He felt beyond rage. Resigned. Amused. Even perhaps disgusted. Sasuke didn’t want to be here any longer. He spread his presence wide, called out to an old friend. I am here, Indra seemed to beckon. He dug deep within him and let go.

 _‘You will have to hold fast,’_ Fugaku explained. _‘Since the transference was too quick and too sudden, and you are too young, it will overwhelm you. You will no longer realise who and what you are. Try to hold on and build yourself up again.’_

Sasuke cared no longer. It now mattered not. There was nothing left.

He reached out blindly. Cradled Naruto’s face in his hands and ever so softly whispered, “you stupid selfish boy.”

He feel the jerk of surprise and the answering bloom of the Kyuubi’s chakra. Sasuke smiled a bloody little smile.

He was Fugaku speaking, “You wrap yourself in a sense of righteousness.”

Hikaku sighing, “saying it is for the greater good.”

Madara mocking, “when it is really just want you want.”

Indra mourning, “and damn everyone who does not bow to you will.”

Sasuke opened his eyes and the Mangekyo swirled. Against Kyuubi’s red hazed stare, it was Indra who smiled.

“Kurama,” Indra spoke. “Tell father to go damn himself, “ as he sent both Naruto and Kyuubi right into a gengutsu. It was into the dream they so wish. A battle against him that they craved so much. The win and the adulation they so desired.

Naruto slowly started to collapsed against him when Sasuke felt a comforting presence appear behind. His shadow furled out wings. He could feel clawed hands cradling him whilst he slowly set his slumbering burden down.

“Garuda,” it was Indra who named the welcomed presence.

“Young master,” was the gentle reply. “I had waited so long to hear from you again.”

“Forgive me. I had thought it was no longer my right when father banished me.”

He got a chiding cluck. “Your father lost the right to me, when he made that decision. Remember, I chose you.”

Chastened, he spoke ever so softly. “My name is Sasuke.” He wasn’t really sure he was Sasuke. His was no one and everyone that had gone before him. But what could he say, this was the closest. It didn’t matter anyhow. He was the last. Possibly the only one. No one to care who or what he called himself. “Pleased to meet you Garuda.”

“I as well,” was the reply as the wings wrapped around him in a comforting hug. “Will you really go to Orochimaru?”

He nodded.

“Is it wise?”

“For now,” Sasuke replied. “I just need a place to hide so I can grow and build. Just for a little while.”

A sigh. Sasuke closed his eyes. He felt the wind as his cheeks as they flew away. Far away from Naruto’s slumbering form and the valley of the end.

 _‘Goodbye Konoha,’_ Sasuke thought. _‘I hope never to see you again.’_  
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End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will hopefully be part of series of snapshots, a contemplation of what if Fugaku Uchiha left all the memories, stories and knowledge of the Uchiha clan and what he knew to Sasuke before he was killed. Of course this would also contain the knowledge that they were killed due to orders. I thought it would make a big difference on how Sasuke would react and his reasons. I also wanted to give a voice to the Uchiha clan and look at it to their own lens, their own traditions and reasons.
> 
> This i supposed will be the closest to canon. This is actually very close that the conversation between Naruto and Sasuke was lifted directly from the manga. The difference is the end and that the commentary is from Sasuke's point of view. After this, the rest of the snapshots would diverge from canon significantly. Hopefully, I'll get to write more. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated.


	2. Hold Onto Your Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For so long, the Uchiha had been bound to the Land of Fire, until now.
> 
> Uchiha Sasuke travels the land, free and unbound from Konoha. Here is how the world has taken notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unfortunately unbetaed. I also had a rush of inspiration, so this came out quite earlier than I normally would be capable of. 
> 
> This is an experiment too, so be warned this isn't the smoothest of stories. I'm not sure what I was thinking with how I made this, but this has gone through a number of wringers that I decided I might as well post this before I tore everything apart again. Hopefully, this is at least enjoyable.

II. Hold onto Your Voices

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Lord Setsuna, the newly ascended Daimyo of the Land of the Rice Fields, fidgeted as he waited for the Otogakure contingent to pass through the halls. It was one of his most hated duties when he was the heir, but at least before, he could stay hidden. At times, he could even skip the whole endeavour. But now he could no longer afford to, he was now the Daimyo and with it came the multitude of responsibilities it entailed.

 

This current meeting was even more important. It was the first time Setsuna as Daimyo would meet the Otokage, who was also bringing his newest recruit. Or acquisition, as a number of people would whisper in awe.

 

The last Uchiha, they would mutter in disbelief. The news had rocked the know world. Spread like wildfire and gave their small poor nation power and legitimacy. An unheard of feat in the power play monopolies of the five great Shinobi nations. Setsuna would still remember the sneering condescension they first received when they announced the formation of Hidden Sound. Even the presence of the legendary Sannin, Orochimaru, was not enough to give them the recognition they sought. But to gain an Uchiha was a different story, and the rest had begun to sit up and take notice.

 

It made this event less of a chore to Setsuna. He was really more of a historian than a warlord. The past and it’s tales, interested him more than the subtle weave and posturing that ruling entailed. To get to see a member of the legendary clan was a dream to him. Something he thought impossible by the fact that members of the clan had been corralled inside Konoha’s walls. Then the massacre nearly wiped them from existence.

 

He nodded absently as they went through the normal courtesies. Perhaps he should be paying more attention to the Otokage, yet he could not help but be drawn to the silent veiled figure that was the last Uchiha. He wasn’t sure whether or not he was to be disappointed or intrigued.He wasn’t sure what they were aiming for, dressing him up like the noble figures of old. The uchikatsugi with its tall wide brim hat and long waterfall of white netting turned Uchiha Sasuke into a imposing and frightening presence.

 

 _‘Like a ghost,’_ Setsuna thought with a shudder. A sentiment shared by many due to the wary glances the silent figure wrought.

 

“Perhaps the young Uchiha Sasuke should unveil himself in the presence of his lord,” a voice suddenly cut through the murmured courtesies. Setsuna turned a disbelieving gaze at the only person stupid or brave enough to speak such a request. The request seemed to almost insinuate that Uchiha Sasuke should prove his identity, proved that the clan has truly defected. To no one’s surprise, it was Hajime Tora, an advisor trusted by his father. He was one of those men Setsuna could never determine if they were a visionary or a absolute fool. It was his urging that allowed Hidden Sound to gain credence. It was also his urging that led to the disastrous invasion of Konoha.

 

Orochimaru’s face contorted in annoyance. There was an uncomfortable cough. Before any barbs could be flung, Uchiha Sasuke peered out of his veils. A collective breath was held as a lone black eye appeared, set against pale aristocratic features.

 

Setsuna could feel himself drown. The intense gaze zeroed at him and would not release him. They seemed to say, I know your secrets. And just as sudden, it stopped. The veil dropped and he could breath again.

 

“My thanks,” Advisor Tora choked out. His hands were trembling.

 

Whatever the last Uchiha did, it affected everyone. For some had looked down in deference. Others were white with shock. The rest were tight lipped and grim. For that single gaze had proven him an Uchiha. A legendary saviour or a nightmare?

 

It depends on what stories you listen to.

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Come along children and let me tell you the tale of the god of the storms, the god of thunder, lightning and rain.

 

He is a fierce and terrible god. A life-giving god. Which aspect is true or false we cannot say. For just as a storm leaves destruction in his wake, so does it send water to nourish our fields, quench our thirst and cleanse our land.

 

But whatever you wish to see, there is one thing that is certain. He is our king. A great figure. A mighty one. He who comes in many names.

 

The storm god, as he is called by men.

 

Osu, the name his mother gave.

 

Takeru, the name he took.

 

And the name his father gave him?

 

Indra.

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_‘Was it possible for legends to be absolute truths, free from embellishments?’_

 

It was a fanciful thought that popped into Lord Setsuna head as the smiling face of Uchiha Sasuke greeted him. A bold move considering he had just been introduced to the Daimyo’s court today. A shock in itself as he had made himself at home in the Daimyo’s personal quarters, with tea prepared for the lord and his advisors, while bringing an unknown retainer who watched warily from the shadows.

 

“Come sit,” Uchiha Sasuke invited them with a gracious sweep of his hand. Absently, Setsuna took the seat followed cautiously by one of his advisors, Oda Mitsuki, whilst Hajime Tora steamed in affront. Not surprising, his advisors reaction. Hajime Tora was so like his father, a rough ambitious war hawk thru and thru, while Oda Mitsuki was a sly cautious man who weighed every single word and deed.

 

He took no offense of the presumption. There was an undeniable sense of ownership in the young man, an unconscious arrogance of a man born into power. A power that had to be acknowledged; buried it was in the crumbling annals of their land, written by guilt ridden men. It made Setsuna feel like a supplicant. A funny sensation for a man born to rule as well.

 

“Tell me Lord Setsuna,” Sasuke spoke once again. “Why did your father agree to the creation of Hidden Sound?”

 

“It’s not that difficult,” he answered wearily. “Respect, power, protection.”

 

“Why continue it?”

 

It was a surprising question. A loaded question in truth. So much so that both his advisors burst out in a flurry of protests.

 

Setsuna gave the query the contemplation it deserved. He had always had misgivings about the endeavour. He had never voiced them out loud, content in playing a supportive son. He did understand his father’s desire, but thought it was a mad quest that attracted the equally mad. For how else can he describe the legendary Sannin, Orochimaru, and his desperate search for immortality. And his father’s dream of their land becoming a power to rival the five great Shinobi nation, was just as crazy and unrealistic as living forever.

 

It was a dream of deluded men. Hidden Sound earned them nothing but contempt and indulgence. The five great nations viewed them as a new toy to play with as they see fit, not an equal. It was only with the news of the Uchiha’s defection that they begun to show signs of worry. But what did it matter to Setsuna. He had no such ambition. The only thing he wished for was his land to prosper, his people treated fairly, and their goods unencumbered. To protect his people and never become forcibly suckered into those devastating Shinobi wars that brought nothing but grief.

 

Setsuna wondered briefly what answer he would give. Uchiha Sasuke’s agenda was difficult to parse. His presence as the silent sentinel trailing after the Otokage had given no clue on his loyalties. Should a misspoken word reach Orochimaru. Well Setsuna had no illusions on who wielded the power in their relationship.

 

He realised though there was no way to lie. The dark knowing gaze of the Uchiha had pinned him like a butterfly. Those wicked eyes, as men throughout the ages have dubbed them in fear. The eyes that were able to see truth from lies. Perhaps he harboured a thought that it was all made up stories, but this one encounter disabused him of the notion.

 

‘ _May the gods favour our land,’_ he thought.

 

Lord Setsuna, current Daimyo of the Land of the Rice Fields, spoke with a resolute gaze. He poured his all his hopes, and prayed it will be enough. “Because I have hope, my people can determine their own future.”

 

Just as he said those words, the world erupted in a crash and a flash of blood. He found himself sitting dumbly by the table. Besides him, one of his companions, the advisor Tora was wrestled face down on the table, shoulder seeping blood. The shadowy retainer he dismissed earlier casually holding the old man down in his bloody claws. Shocked, he didn’t care about the rapidly cooling tea that soaked his robes. He could only stare at disbelief at the man revealed. Half-man, half-bird. A winged male form with the head of a hawk and sharp curved claws to tear everything asunder. A figure of myth and legend, god and monster. Garuda, king of the birds.

 

Setsuna reached out to Mitsuki in shock. But all he felt was air. Looking to the side, he was greeted by another confrontation. Mitsuki and Uchiha Sasuke were in a stand-off. The latter’s tessen was unfurled at the former’s throat who also held his own weapon and was simply restrained by a strong arm. Locked in a stare, the two men moved not an inch, until Mitsuki bowed his head in deference.

 

“Tell me Suna,” Sasuke spoke, keeping his attention to the man he still held up at blade point. “Hasn’t the Land of the Wind learned that all their skulking about never got them what they needed?” Snapping the fan close, he turned a haughty look at the other restrained man, “and you, what stupidity caused the Land of Lighting to abandon their highly effective spying for some paltry assassination attempt?”

 

Stunned silence greeted those words. Setsuna could not believe his ears. He had resigned himself to the betrayal of his father’s advisors, a long forgone conclusion that has happened to every heir that had taken their father’s place. But a spy? Oh that cannot be borne.

 

“You’re mad,” Tora snarled, struggling, while Mitsuki had remained silent. “Tell your monster to get off!”

 

“Well now you’ve just told me your not from here,” Sasuke mocked. Tora’s dismissal of Garuda was a bit surprising, Setsuna mussed, for everyone had grown up with stories of the power and might of the legendary bird and the master it served. Respect should have been bred down to the marrow of their bones, Uchiha Sasuke’s presence notwithstanding which seemed to radiate from the very tips of his fingers. He does not feel like a boy to him, but something older. But perhaps with Tora who prided himself to be a visionary, such tales are objects to be dismissed.

 

“What on earth are you blathering about?!” Tora snapped as sharp claws drugged into his shoulder in warning. It sent more blood trickling.

 

“Do you even know who’s pining you down?” Sasuke replied back in query. He had arranged himself in a casual pose, radiating amusement as he observed the three men. “Lord Setsuna, perhaps you would care to inform our Kumo nin.”

 

“Impossible!” Setsuna turned a disbelieving stare at his father’s favourite adviser. The man who had pushed the previous Daimyo to the excess of ambition with Hidden Sound and all its triumph and folly. Why, he could not understand. He had no delusions as to their impact in the world, fairly little.

 

“He is Garuda,” Mitsuki suddenly spoke, intense and weighing. “The King which the summons bow before. In Suna, we tell the tales of his master, the storm. The great destroyer with its crushing wind. The great giver with its life-giving rain. In Suna, to show their worth, every Kage-to-be must challenge the storm and live.”

 

“The king of the birds,” Setsuna spoke. His throat felt dry. The air thick with tension and possibility. “Here, He is a blessing for his flock protects our fields and kills those who will destroy it. His master is the storm. Life-bringer and death-bringer. He is justice incarnate.”

 

“And in Kumo, you erased all tales of him. Challenging a legend is difficult huh?” Sasuke continued, subdued and strangely troubled. He mused out loud, studying the still restrained spy as his Sharingan swirled. “You’ve been quite good, keeping all the other great nations busy. You’ve all been busy scrabbling to gain whatever foothold from every dratted war and nothing has ever come of it. But now, you’ve weakened Konoha masterfully, but instead of taking advantage, Kumo tries this! What are you going to gain from this? You’ve always had the mirror. That damn sword is still at Konoha, so is the jewel since they won it from Iwa.”

 

“We are protecting what’s ours.”

 

Sasuke reared back, affronted. “I have no designs for that thing. I have done nothing to claim it.”

 

“Konoha let you go. How are we to trust them/”

 

“What did you agree upon?”

 

There was no answer. The two were locked in a stare, until Sasuke sighed. “You don’t know? Very well, go tell your Daimyo and Kage, I care not for that mirror. Unless you cross me, then there will be consequences.”

 

Sasuke waved an absent hand. “Garuda, please,” he spoke just as the said myth dragged his struggling prisoner and leaped out of the window.

 

“So,” Sasuke easily broke the silence. His attention was now on the two. There was a grim twist in his lips. “The alliance. Wind has need of a cheaper source of food and water. Rice Fields has an abundance of food and need of a better buyer.”

 

He then smiled, a small amused twinkle in his eye. It was so jarring from his previously grim persona that it brought exclamations of exasperation from the two men.

 

“It’s not that simple,” Setsuna cried out.

 

“What are you going to gain from this?” Mitsuki shot back.

 

The two men were skeptical. Certainly, Sasuke’s read on the situation was brilliant in its simplicity. But there is a complicated mix of borders and alliances that separated the two domains. One misstep will bring the wrath of one or all of the remaining great nations, especially since Konoha had enjoyed a monopoly on trade. A monopoly that Suna had so resented them for, it pushed for the failed invasion. It was a tool so effective, Konoha would likely try to preserve at all costs. But both men would admit, if Uchiha Sasuke succeeded, it will be a glorious coup.

 

“First, Fire is too busy rebuilding. The Land of Waters is rocked by internal strife. The Land of Rivers will be probably sniffing out an alternative source. That’s a start,” he replied with a shrug, then a pause. Slowly, he spoke in a weighted tone. “Second, you saw how Lightning simply reacted to my presence. For sure, they will decide to move, just as Fire and Stone will. They each have the Imperial regalia and they have waited for so long…”

With a bitter twist of his lips, Sasuke murmured, “Why do you think these wars have happened unceasingly?”

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Let us tell you the tale of the two brothers, Osu.

 

It’s not a beautiful tale. It’s a tragic one. It’s a tale that heralds the downfall of the Imperial line.

 

The great Emperor Keiko had a son. Osu, his mother named him. He was a fine son. A passionate man raised with the burden of the crown that he learned to control his passions early. He grew up vowing to be a just ruler, unmoved by anything but the sense of righteousness and the desire to protect and to rule well. But such solemnity did not sit well with the weary Emperor. He looked at Osu and saw not a fine young man. Instead he saw all the cares that weighed him and his family before him. The great king could not bear it, so he shunned his only son.

 

Osu hid his hurt deep. He buried himself in his duties. Toured the land as the arbiter of Justice, the stern strong arm unmoved by tears. They called him the oncoming storm, he who destroys or gives back life.

 

In his travels, he meets a young man strong and bright. Osu was fascinated. They had the same name, the same age, and looked nearly alike. They could have been twins. In this man, Osu saw what he could have been. Someone his father would have loved. A merry boy quick to laugh, quick to love, quick to anger and to hate. He was like a summer storm, a breath of fresh air against the prince’s calcifying heart. He loved that boy who gave him joy in his joyless existence.

 

Unbeknownst to him, his namesake was his brother. The Emperor’s beloved bastard child. The child he wished for. The child who made him laugh and forget all the cares of his world.

 

What a summery heyday for all. The great Emperor had his wished upon child. Prince Osu had a beloved companion in his joy. And the beloved child Osu? He had his big dreams, to share his bright loving world for he was loved in abundance. He had a beloved father, mother and brother.

 

But such summery heyday cannot last. Emperor Keiko was beguiled by his beloved child’s dreams. Such a thought came to him, _‘surely my beloved child would make a better king. My current heir is a dour boy who would inspire nothing but fear.’_ So the foolish Emperor one day unveiled his boy with his gentle mother. He renamed his beloved son, Asura. The Prince, he renamed Indra. It threw the court in uproar. The vultures circled and the Empress in a fit of shame, threw herself from the highest tower.

 

Her shattered body, poor Indra found. He cradled it in his arms. Poor Asura who knew not the turmoil his father caused dreamed of seeing joy in his beloved brother’s face; for the secrets had begun to weigh on merry Asura’s mind.

 

The dam had broke. In a fit of rage, Indra challenged Asura to a duel. Naive Asura accepted thinking he could reason with his grief stricken brother. But Indra was beyond reason, having carried his mother’s broken body through the halls. Her blood had left a trail, so bright, it could never be erased. Mighty Indra rained blow after blow at Asura, and sent him to his knees. When he was to struck the killing blow, Asura’s mother intervened. She begged for her son’s life. Offered her own in recompense. Blind to all but his grief, Indra accepted and ended the gentle lady’s life.

 

Indra awoke at Asura’s cries of grief. He saw what he had done, the folly of his passion. In his shame, he bared his neck to his brother.

 

“A life for a life, beloved brother. Perhaps its best you end this.”

 

Asura raised his blade. He accepted, for he was a boy of quicksilver emotions. Easy in loving. Easy in hating. He thought of nothing but getting his vengeance.

 

The Emperor was a sly creature. He saw what his actions had done. He looked at his whispering court and thought to cement his beloved son as heir. He called for Indra’s life to be left in his hands. In his heart, he nursed a wish for his son to soil his name. Wanted his son to suffer just as he had suffered for all his sins. So the Emperor banished Indra to the far reaches of the earth. Called it mercy, to toil and die at his pleasure.

 

Indra who would never know peace.

 

Indra who would die by his word.

 

Indra who took his punishment and vanished.

 

Indra who in the end would take the name Takeru.

 

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There are days when Kakashi wondered what he is fighting for, what he is living for. This was one of those days. Actually, he had never stopped feeling this way, especially when he found Naruto’s genjutsu drugged form in the valley of the end. Sasuke lost to Orochimaru. Sometimes he thinks the Sandaima wanted to punish him. Cutting off the numbness only an ANBU would bring, giving him three little brats he would begun to care for, and he was bound to fail.

 

Perhaps this is penance, he thought. For sure this was penance, his mind insisted as he found himself staring at his missing student.

 

 _‘Former student,’_ his mind corrected. _‘Did you not failed him so badly? Did he not leave you?’_

 

He cursed Tsunade for sending him in this god forsaken political mission. A messenger from the Fire Daimyo to the Wind Daimyo. A celebration of their burgeoning alliance. A subtle warning that a second invasion would not be tolerated. A unspoken threat that the Land of Fire would not allow their interests to be undermined. So here he found himself at the Daimyo‘ court, playing a good friend to people he knew or cared not about. This wasn’t the worse though. This he could stand. What truly was hard to swallow was his undocumented mission, to gather information on Uchiha Sasuke and if deemed a threat, eliminate if possible.

 

Konoha asked much from its Shinobi. You would wonder what it gives in return.

 

It was a mission he did not want to accept. A mission he was bound to fail in, but he was given no choice. Kakashi had never believed in gods or fate, but at that moment he wished if they were truly watching that he would not see any hide or hair of Sasuke. Or if he did, the boy would simply be harmless, someone he can easily say he could leave alive.

 

But then, since when was fates kind to him?

 

“Kakashi,” Sasuke acknowledged him. It was an unusual thing from the taciturn boy, but then what was usual in their meeting when here was Kakashi innocently stumbling on another failed assassination attempt. Not that there was anything innocent nor accidental in his choices.

 

Kakashi was greeted with scowls. The Daimyo guards have surrounded the would be assassin as well as situated themselves protectively around Sasuke. Sasuke who had experienced so many attempts to his life ever since Kakashi had a glimpse of him in court, that the palace guards have taken it as a personal insult. There had been too many, from traps to blades, and a poisoned drink that sent the court into a tizzy and the Daimyo cursing. Even Gaara, the Kazekage, had looked so grim at that attempt that Kakashi could not help but indulge his curiosity, leveraging on their relationship with Naruto to get answers. Gaara had simply replied, “it’s the worse insult.”

 

Kakashi had remembered watching Sasuke’s increasingly detached reaction to each attempt. The supernaturally swift way he dealt with it. His supreme unconcern. Perhaps the only time he reacted differently was the poisoned drink. It wasn’t even concern for himself, but the apology he gave to the Daimyo for the drink and the attempt to his life. It had gotten a wave of approval and such outpouring of support. All in all, Kakashi cursed his student for looking too competent too dangerous that Konoha in time would sure decide they would have to send their best to eliminate him.

 

“Messenger Kakashi,” the chief guard spoke, bristling with suspicion. “May we request you leave so we can secure the Ambassador’s safety.”

 

Well now Kakashi knew how they viewed the whole situation. Certainly with the titles they gave the two of them.

 

“It’s all right,” Sasuke interjected. His gaze was on the rapidly darkening pool of water. Poisoned, most probably. Kakashi mourned at the waste of such a good bathing pool, especially in the god forsaken heat and dust of Wind’s deserts.

 

Sasuke dismissed the concerns of the guards. Kakashi in a bid to make life easier tried to radiate all the innocence of a man who did nothing wrong and was simply minding his own business. Not that he really had anything to do with this attempt, but he was one of the supposed assassins sent to eliminate Uchiha Sasuke.

 

 _‘Not that you’re really going to do it,’_ he thought sourly, knowing full well this was one mission he would exercise all the discretion available to him. He would not kill his student, not when the only thing Sasuke was known to had really done was kill Orochimaru, a man Konoha had surely welcomed as dead. Who was he kidding though? Sasuke had become a thorn in The Land of Fire’s interest. Discretely at first. When Orochimaru was alive, the ministers would chalk it up to the old Otokage. Such political acumen seemed peculiar but the enthronement of the new Rice Fields Daimyo gave such a perfect reason. Now with Orochimaru’s death, there was no way to hide all that shifting alliances have been the handiwork of the young Uchiha.

 

“Just like that blasted Hikaku and Kenshin,” Elder Homura would rail, remembering the past Uchiha heads that have slyly expanded the said clan’s alliances, just as they expanded Konoha’s.

 

The Land of Fire was agitated. Uchiha Sasuke had secretly turned the punishing tariffs the Land of Fire had laid against the Land of the Rice Fields and Wind. There had been talk that he is on his way in hammering a trade deal between those two nations with the Land of the Rivers as a byway. Other whispers of alliances he has been slowly forging with the other smaller nations have abounded. All the great Shinobi nations have been hearing those rumblings. The whole ruling class of the Land of Fire was in teeter hooks. There was an honest fear, Uchiha Sasuke would create the right ingredients for their influence to wane. And who would want that in their quest to rule the world?

 

“Do you still remember the Phoenix seal?”

 

It was a curious question by Sasuke. Out of tangent after all the convincing he did to drop the suspicion on Kakashi. But more so, Kakashi knew he never told the boy how that he knew the personal seal of the Uchiha. Their seal for prayer and blessing. Their entreaty to Suzaku to bless the dead and bring them peace. He had remember asking Uchiha Kouya the reason his clan would ask the Phoenix for a blessing, and not the holy gods that have shaped the earth.

 

“Because he guards over rebirth,” Kakashi would always remember Kouya’s gentle smile. The young priest of the Uchiha who had drifted past the world in a dream. “We Uchiha know that rebirth is a cursed thing, for instead of peace, you are once again brought back to all the folly and fury of life. But we are promised to it, so we ask Suzaku for a single moment our loved ones will have that peace.”

 

“Yes,” Kakashi replied cautiously.

 

“Good,” Sasuke spoke as he gestured for Kakashi to unveil his Sharingan. “You might as well help me with purifying the water. We used to do this after the Katon.”

 

“I remember,” Kakashi grated. Oh how he remembered, as they both begun the shape the seals needed. He was nearly swamped with memories. Those days with Obito’s eye newly grafted into him. The icy words spoken between the Uchiha as they debated his fate, words they never realised he heard.

 

“Fugaku,” he remembered hearing that icy tone rusted with age. “When I gave him up to Konoha, you said he would be safe. Liar. He’s gone and I have nothing. Let that boy rot!”

 

Kakashi would remember Uchiha Fugaku turning his intense gaze at him. “Answer me boy,” Wicked eye Fugaku would demand of him. The man who could parse truth and falsehood at a single glance. “What does the Sharingan mean?”

 

“It’s Obito’s gift,” he would reply.

 

“Not what it means to you. What does it mean?”

 

“It’s Obito’s dying gift!” He would insist shouting, too weary and heartsick to understand what was going on.

 

This answer would give him Fugaku’s equally weary gaze as the man would tell him, “A Sharingan means knowing loss and the inevitability of it.”

 

This is one of the few scraps of knowledge the Uchiha would impart to him. Another was the Phoenix seal and its derivatives under Uchiha Kouya’s careful eye. The seal that invokes Suzaku’s blessing and the purifying heat of his fire.

 

“Phoenix seal to finish,” they would both murmur much to Kakashi’s surprise. He would meet Sasuke’s eyes as the boy would shrug, saying, “Kouya taught me too.”

 

Such a simple statement with so much layers of meaning.

 

They were now left alone. Their actions in purifying the water had allowed the guards to loose their wariness of Kakashi. Awed and thankful, they had easily left the two former teacher-student pair together. Water was sacred to those who live in the desert. Kakashi now realised how ignorant he must have looked asking Gaara about the poisoned drink. It was such a simple thing, that Konoha’s intelligence division never really delved into. How many missions could have been easier with such a simple information?

 

“Water so important to them isn’t it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why are you helping me?”

 

“Because I have questions.”

 

The world darkened. Kakashi had been snagged into a genjutsu. He did not panic. He could sense no malice, no killing intent. In fact, the only thing he could sense was an intense grief, hidden and unwillingly released. Slowly, shapes begun to form. Sasuke was a figure staring at a distance.

 

“Who allowed this?” Sasuke spoke just as the darkness cleared and Kakashi could see the horrors in all its glory. A shelf full of Uchiha eyes, Sharingan red, and the mutilated body of Uchiha Kouya.

 

Uchiha Kouya his teacher. The one who floated in the world like dandelion fluff, a description the old Uchiha priest Genji would say to Kakashi when the old man would acknowledge his presence. Uchiha Kouya who’s body Kakashi found as they cleaned up the signs of the massacre. Throat cut with his face replete with grief.

 

“I found this in Orochimaru’s lab. His body should have been burned. Who was in charge of my clan’s rites?”

 

Kakashi could not answer.

 

“Are they the same people who are selling my clan’s bodies like cattle? Or does this mean Orochimaru has Konoha’s blessing?”

 

What could Kakashi say. There was a rot in Konoha. How deep it ran, how many it twisted, he could not say. The only thing he knew were whispers and even these whispers were uncertain. The only thing he knew was that it was too dangerous and fragile.

 

“Sasuke,” he cautioned. There were so many things he could not say. Many things he wanted to speak of and many that he would rather take to the grave than speak of.

 

Sasuke looked unbothered by his reticence. “No matter,” he assures Kakashi. “There is little you can hide in the mind if you know were to look.”

 

With these words, Kakashi could feel the grip of the illusion fading.

 

“Take care Sensei,” Sasuke spoke as he faded as well. “There are so little body parts left.”

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Let us speak of the great grand Emperor known as Keiko. The last who sat on the Imperial throne. He was a great man who drove the land to the peak of prosperity. He was a terrible man who tore the land asunder in his blind hatred for his son. He was a tragic figure forced to kill his mother to ascend the golden throne.

 

Such ghastly deeds leave a mark. Whether or not it was for good or ill, the blood of your mother spilled cannot be erased.

 

So Keiko sat on his weary throne, hurting and haunted, until he began to hate his very blood. His wife, he shunned. His son, he despised. He pinned all his hopes on his bastard child. A child he believed unstained with the guilt of blood.

 

The Emperor wished to rid himself of his guilt. In his desire, he struck off his line and declared a new one born. The Prince, he exiled. His merry child, he called heir. And he called himself a sage. A sage by the name, Hagoromo.

 

Wise sage he may be, but Hagoromo forgot that men have their own minds. Some men followed their liege, others refused his will and searched for the Prince, while the rest saw their chance to sit upon the golden throne. The land was then split asunder, by the great and terrible Hagoromo.

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Itachi soundlessly stepped into the hall of the old Uchiha hideout. Perhaps before he would have wanted to study this place, built by his ancestors and long abandoned by his clan. A structure so old and weary as the people who built it. Now, he had no time for this. No inclination to explore. He only had his eyes on his brother. His younger brother who did not acknowledge his presence too deep in contemplation with who knows what.

 

Itachi studied Sasuke. He could not help but feel a sense of trepidation. Where was the little brother who followed him everywhere?

 

‘ _Dead_ ,’ Itachi thought bitterly. ‘ _I made sure he was dead_ ’.

 

But he wondered, where was the boy he pushed past the breaking point? The boy that was all sound and fury, where was he now?

 

It had gone round and round his head. What he had heard about Sasuke had shaken him.

 

‘A ghost,’ people would describe him.

 

‘A spectre of the past,’ the old Shinobi clans would say with pursed lips.

 

‘Judgement,’ the lords would shudder.

 

Sasuke had become a contradiction in their world. His little brother had become a large looming presence. The reach he had amassed had stretched far and wide from the smallest of nations to the mightiest have felt the hooks of his tendrils. The lords would whisper how the current alliance between the smaller nations have been forged by Sasuke’s ghostly hand. For sure, everyone knew the triple alliance between the Land of the Wind, of the Rivers, and of the Rice Fields was formed by the same man. The newly reorganised Hidden Sound has all the hallmarks of Sasuke’s meddling. Even when he never claimed the seat as the new Otokage, Orochimaru’s death by his own hand sealed his influence in the hidden village. It was even said that he stole the sacred mirror the Land of Lighting treasured. Yet for all of Sasuke’s activities, he barely seemed to appear at anyone’s sights until the deed was done. He was a will of a wisp. His presence barely seemed to touch anything. He couldn’t even seemed to be found. Once he had eliminated Orochimaru, Sasuke Uchiha was said to disappear. A hawk had come and swept him away. It was the same story the Land of Lighting would say about the theft. Sasuke Uchiha came and was just simply gone.

 

Looking at his little brother, Itachi could see why he was called a spectre of the past. Sasuke looked like one of those faded portraits of the nobles of old in their travels. The traditional veiled hat, the uchikatsugi, hiding his form in a screen of white, while an iron fan, mostly probably a tessen, lay at his hand as he absently scratched it through the table.

 

“Have you looked your fill?” Sasuke voice rang in the still air as he turned to face Itachi. A lone black eye peered past the white fabric, arch and almost daring. “ What judgement will you render this time, brother?”

 

Itachi’s eyes narrowed. “I never rendered you judgement.”

 

“I think I remember differently. Your Tsukiyomi told me otherwise.”

 

Itachi bit back a retort. It stung to have all your efforts dismissed as the ramblings of a power hungry madman, even if he encouraged it. He knew that was what he worked for, his little brother confident and strong in the bowers of Konoha. Sasuke would become a loyal Shinobi of the leaf, a credit to the village.

 

Itachi easily caught Sasuke in the illusion of the Tsukiyomi. He felt relieved. Whatever changes he saw in Sasuke, they offered no extra strength or skill against him. This would be a simple fight. His final plan would easily come into fruition, and then he can have his peace.

 

Itachi watched absently as Sasuke and he traded blows in this false world. His illusory self started to plant seeds against the Akatsuki and Madara, as he admitted the one truth he could honestly say. Madara Uchiha, another bearer of the Mangekyou, was his collaborator in the massacre of the clan. The Mangekyou, a powerful tool, that gave you the ability to control the tailed beast. A double edged sword as it lead to blindness.

 

“You are alive because I have need of your eyes,” Itachi spoke, weaving his lies amidst the truth. A pang of grief ran through him as he viewed his little brother’s face contorted in terror and rage. So his illusion stated he won, his clone had pinned in brother with his eyes ripe of the taking. He touched a cheek andthen the socket. He steeled himself, dug deep against the screams and continued speaking, “in order to stop the blindness, I have to take your Mangekyou. That is why you had to grow stronger, so I can take yours for myself.”

 

“I wonder who told you that?”

 

A voice suddenly whispered behind him. Itachi whirled.

 

“It can’t be,” he murmured in shock. Sasuke Uchiha stood in front of him while the tableau of his own murder at Itachi’s hand played between them.

 

“What do you mean by that?” Sasuke queried with a curious tilt in his head. “That I knew that this was a genjutsu? That I can get around it? Or that I dare ask you what you know is true?”

 

“This doesn’t matter,” Itachi spoke with grim determination. The questions flummoxed him, but he didn’t have time. He knew he was dying. He had to secure Sasuke’s future. Itachi dispelled the illusion. He charged at Sasuke, crying out, “I will made my dream a reality, your eyes are mine.”

 

Sasuke simply smiled. He made no move to dodge or defend himself. He still casually wore his uchikatsugi, unbothered by the stifling veil. “If you truly wanted the eternal Mangekyo, you could have taken father’s.”

 

Itachi froze. He could not speak. He was left gaping at his brother.

 

“Surprised I knew? Just I knew you were ordered to by Konoha.”

 

“How?” Itachi gasped out. He felt he was loosing strength, all his plans were being crushed.

 

Sasuke released a deep, almost pitying sigh. He slowly removed his hat, letting the silence draw out before he replied, “does it matter?” He fully turned to face Itachi, bereft of the barriers that shielded them from each other. “What really matters to me is if you had any, even just a minuscule doubt on the rightness of your cause?”

 

“If you knew,” Itachi spat out, angry. It was a curious feeling, he hadn’t felt this intense emotion for so long. It felt he was back again speaking to his bull-headed arrogant clan. He hated them. Hated how they can never throw their pride away, think beyond the clan and find find fulfilment in the village and its people. “Then you know it was our pride that ended us. We exist because of Konoha and the ideals of the will of fire. Konoha protects us, loves us, so we should think beyond the clan, and love and protect Konoha as well.”

 

“We made the village in order to protect,” Sasuke replied, almost agreeably. There was a strange cadence to his tone. He almost felt like a different person. “If it no longer protects and harms instead. If it must be protected but does not protect, is it still worth it?”

 

Itachi could only stare aghast. He could not speak. The words were too cruel. He did not want to listen.

 

“Tell me older brother, how many clans have been lost by Konoha and its carelessness? The snake clan? The Namikaze clan? The Hatake? Uchiha?”

 

“Does it matter!” Itachi screamed at his wits end. His world was shattering. All his hopes, all his dreams, all his sacrifices, would be for naught. He refused to let it be so. “If you just gave Konoha what it wanted we wouldn’t be here!”

 

His voice echoed in the hall. He realised he was panting, at his knees. The floor was dusty and cold, he could feel his eyes burning.

 

“Konoha did get what they wanted,” Sasuke chided ever so gently, ever so brutally. “Why do you think everyone was there waiting to die? If we were so prideful, why do you think we endured? We could have easily left.” Sasuke shook his head. He bought his arms out wide. “This fortress is not even in the Land of Fire. How many fortresses found in other lands have the symbol of the Uchiha carved into its walls, singing with our chakra? Multitudes.”

 

No, Itachi could not accept this truth. This was not so. He was not young anymore. Not a naive fool like his little brother. Surely he did not dream of the those days all he heard from his cousins was for the good of the Uchiha. Or the way they look warily at outsiders. The way the whole village would mock them for their aloofness. The way father refused to consider the third hokage’s plea to stand down, consumed by the curse of hatred.

 

“You keep saying how great the Uchiha Clan is,” Itachi riposted. “But look around us foolish little brother, the Uchiha was nothing but a fading clan deluded by the thought of our own greatness. We are nothing without everyone. But we never realised it and just let ourselves be defined by the curse of hatred.”

 

Sasuke laughed. The sound cut through the air in a jarring note. It was not a joyful sound. It was mournful. It was regretful. “I’m sorry my boy,” he spoke so different yet so familiar that Itachi was rooted at the spot. It was like an impossible dream to hear such a cadence, so much so that when Sasuke neared him to grasp his shoulders, he could not react. To him, it felt as if Fugaku Uchiha was here with him, asking for forgiveness, something he always longed for. An apology from his father for giving him such a burden. “So sorry,” Itachi continued to hear Sasuke as Fugaku speak. “We wanted to find peace, wanted to be accepted so much that we sacrificed you and Shisui. We sacrificed so many of our youth. In the end, it was all for naught. We ruined you and all of us...”

 

Itachi watched in confusion as his little brother’s features twisted to an unfamiliar expression. It was as if he was another person altogether. “Or maybe the Senju were right,” Sasuke spoke in a strange self-deprecating mien. “We are cursed, just not the way they dreamed we were.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Tobirama thought we were power hungry madmen waiting to be released by despair,” Sasuke spoke with a sneer. “He is right on only one thing. We are cursed to know despair...and with it, loss and betrayal.”

 

Itachi watched in horror as Sasuke’s eyes swirled into a complex pattern of pinwheels. It couldn’t be denied, it was no ordinary Mangekyo. The pattern, too complex. It could only be a Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan. He broke away from the grip on his shoulders. He didn’t know what to think as Sasuke murmured, his tone once again so different, “Father cursed us to suffer and die with the Mangekyou. And Asura, cursed us to suffer forevermore with the Eternal Mangekyou.”

 

“Who are you?” He demanded as he released the great fireball. It mattered little as the flames were swiftly extinguished with a sweep of the unfurled war fan. “What do you know?”

 

“Did you really believe an outsider with our clan’s history?” Sasuke spoke, harking back to the sneering persona. He stared at Itachi with an almost mocking tilt in his head. “If all it took was to take another Mangekyou in order to achieve the Eternal Mangekyou, Izuna and I would have simply traded eyes on the onset. It is a curse, created by an act of betrayal so deep. You are betrayed by the one you loved the most.”

 

“And who betrayed you?”

 

“You.”

 

Suddenly, the whole grand hall disappeared. Itachi cursed. He realised his brother had fooled him with the same trick he initially used. When he saw the Eternal Mangekyou, that was when he fell into the trap.

 

“I never betrayed you,” Itachi entreated in the dark. “I loved you. I begged so that you should live.”

 

“Is this love? When you tortured and manipulated me, so that I will give you peace,” Sasuke’s voice echoed in the darkness. Slowly, it began to take shape. The deep nothingness pulled back to reveal two rooms. The burning pain Itachi had been feeling in his eyes burst into a conflagration at the sight, whilst Sasuke’s voice continued to ring like an unrelenting hammer, “Is this love? When you have no idea what my dreams and wishes are. When all you did was plan that I will continue to serve your beloved Konoha.” They were rooms filled with the Sharingan red eyeballs, and one had the mutilated body of Uchiha Kouya and another, the mutilated body of Uchiha Fugaku.

 

“I found Kouya in Orochimaru’s secret lab,” Sasuke explained bitterly. “Father was in another lab in the Land of Lighting where they were trying to get the Yata no Kagami to respond. I took the mirror from them. Everything I burned to the ground.

 

He did not respond. He could not, swept by his oh so bitter memories that he had always sought to ignore. He would remember Kouya gazing at him sadly, speaking, “Make it quick.”

 

He would remember Uchiha Fugaku simply telling him, “my boys.” Right before he closed his eyes at the onrushing blade.

 

Uchiha Itachi found himself staring at his image, reflected in the clear smooth surface of the Yata mirror Sasuke cradled in his arms. It was the true mirror, not the spectral copy his Susanoo wielded. Even if he’s never seen it, it called him and made itself known. He could feel it at the marrow of his bones, just as any Uchiha would in the presence of one of the imperial treasures. He does not know why. He simply knew. And at the mirror’s reflection, Itachi eyes were Sharingan red, spinning in the now complex pattern of the Eternal Mangekyou.

 

“You see brother,” Sasuke continued in a whisper soft voice. “You don’t love me. I had an inkling when you did not let me die. But I became certain you never did, because all this time, all you can think of was Konoha.”

 

The illusion then began to crack, then shattered to a thousand pieces.

 

Itachi awoke, warmth suffused him. It chased away the chill in his bones. It gave him the energy he had been rapidly loosing ever since he found out about his illness. He gasped out loud, realising he was held by chakra imbued hands. His vision cleared. He found himself staring at his brother’s tearful eyes. They were so close to each other, their noses were nearly touching. Sasuke continued to speak. It was as if the genjustu and reality were one and the same. “Isn’t hope the worse? It forces us to endure, but it will inevitably disappoint. I had hoped, but here we are. Just as you hoped to die, I will disappoint you.”

 

Itachi tried to struggle, but it was too late. The chakra that infused into his body had done its job. He had so wished to die, he had forced his body to the breaking point. Bled his chakra to nothing until he was nothing more than a ticking bomb ready to end. But this cleansing chakra invigorated him. It soothed and stayed in his body. It almost had a mind of its own, a desperate will to live. Sasuke’s Mangekyou swirled and caught him still.

 

“You will scrabble to live,” Sasuke intoned. “I will not allow you to self destruct. I will not give you what you wished, for I am not kind.”

 

The new chakra that coursed though his veins giving him strength. He stared at his brother in disbelief. What Sasuke did was impossible for he was not a healer.

 

“How?”

 

“I gave you Orochimaru.”

 

Itachi gave a yell of denial. With all his newfound strength he lashed out. To his horror, his hand met flesh, muscle and sinew. Warm coppery blood trickled at his fingers. His little brother gave him a small knowing bloody little smile before he pushed himself away into a heap. Itachi could not follow. He could only stare at his crimson coated hand, stunned.

 

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Come children and remember that things happen in threes.

 

The Sharingan was a blessing from gods. Red-eyed Osu received three gifts: the past-remembrance, the present-truth from lies, and the future-the power to see possibilities.

 

The Mangekyou was the Emperor’s curse to his re-named son, Indra. He sent the exiled prince to be beleaguered by a unnamed hoard, to wander and slowly loose hope until all he had was darkness and despair. Red-eyed Osu was no more, instead there was only wild-eyed Indra. But the gods refused to let such a thing pass. They remembered the boy who they blessed, the deeds he accomplished. The oncoming storm, enemies would whisper. The arm of justice, his people would bow.

 

So when the hoard came, the gods brought out such a show of force the earth trembled. Susanoo, the god of storms, clad him in his godly power and shielded him from all who wished him harm. The sun goddess, Amaterasu, sent such a strong flame that all were turned to ash. Tsukiyomi, the moon god, cloaked the world in such a strong illusion that Indra could never be found. The three gods decreed that all who harm the exiled prince will feel their wrath.

 

The gods’s defence reached the ear of the Emperor and it brought fear into his heart. The emperor would remember his power mad mother. He would think of his brother. He would see all the blood he had spilled in his cursed hands. The Emperor could see himself in Indra. He could feel their accursed blood flowing in both their veins. Their unquencheable thirst for power.

 

The Emperor would clutch his beloved son close. He would whisper all his fears. Asura would listen to all his father’s ramblings, until it was all he believed. So when Asura and Indra met once more, Asura greeted him with a vow. A vow that he will fight Indra forevermore for every cycle of their rebirth. Instead of the peace Indra sought, all he had left was an eternal fight he never sought

 

This was the second curse. A curse bought about by Indra’s beloved brother, Asura. Such is his fate to be betrayed by all he loved. Indra wept and in the depths of his shattered heart, the wild-eyed boy was no more. The storm-eyed boy was born, and he took the name Takeru.

 

And what is the third curse you say? Well the story hasn’t ended. Although three names have been spoken, only two curses have been given. But let me tell you the third curse has a name.

 

What is it’s name?

 

Rinnegan.

 

And what is it’s curse?

 

The end of all hope.

 

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FIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure your all wondering how this came about. To be honest, I had the inspiration of linking the Uchiha to the Imperial line because they are in your face linked in Naruto. Just think about it, all unique things associated with the Uchiha are traced to gods and kings. I mean, Susanoo, Amaterasu, Tsukoyomi, Kotoamatsukami, they are all major shinto gods. Kamui is a divine spirit in Ainu mythology. Itachi's Yata mirror, Sasuke's Kusanagi, Shisui's green gem in his Susanoo, they are the Imperial regalia of Japan. Indra is king of the gods (God of storms / lightning. Think of him as the Hindu's version of Odin or Zeus) in Hindu mythology. Garuda is king of the birds in Hindu as well. Kirin is associated with the birth of a sage and...the divine right of kings. So I ran with this idea and everything I just kept adding. Like basing Asura's personality with his Hindu myth counterpart. Or incorporating Osu, who was Kusanagi's most famous owner in the story
> 
> In fact Emperor Keiko and the 2 Osu's, is part of Japanese mythology. There are of course a number of changes and embellishments. But at the core is the myth, the story of Emperor Keiko banishing his son Osu / Takeru and wanting his death.
> 
> In fact, I used this "lens" to explain the history of Naruto or at least to twist their history and explain their current events. I experimented with jumping back and forth, though I tried to give the past and the present distinct voices. I'm not sure how effective this was, so I am curious what everyone thought.
> 
> Anyhow, thank you for reading. And comments plus critiques are greatly appreciated.


	3. The Land of Izanami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uchiha Itachi returns to Konoha. Uchiha Sasuke disappears. The world will never be the same again. For the monster these two young men have unleashed, can never be locked back again. The great powers are waiting and sharpening their swords.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I keep saying that this is a series of one shots, but this is looking like its not anymore. I'm continuing to hope that I can keep this a simple story, because I don't think I'm the best person to write a multi-chaptered monster. I will admit I look like I'm failing in that regard. I don't know how long I can keep my denial going or am I just delusional?
> 
> Anyhow, this is not betaed. I try to proof-read but as you could see with the previous chapter I wasn't successful and it was a horrifying mash of errors. I've cleaned up chapter 2. Hopefully, this one is a bit more cleaner. 
> 
> Lastly, be warned that I have pretty much deviated from canon, even canon legends and myths have been reworked.

III. The Land of Izanami

 

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Once upon a time, there were two brothers death loved dearly.

 

Itachi Uchiha, the prodigy, Konoha called him. The death bringer, they would whisper. The assassin, the killer, the perfect Anbu operative. Death came easily at his hand. It was all he knew that when the call came to kill his whole clan, he took it. Who could blame him? He knew nothing else. He had been taught that killing was the only answer.

 

Sasuke Uchiha, the last Uchiha, Konoha called him. The death bringer, they would sneer furtively. The boy who would bring death to all those stood by him. Wasn’t he the only survivor? Didn’t he watch his whole clan be murdered while he lived? Didn’t his teacher nearly die? Perhaps it was better he should have died, they lamented. Such a shame that we allowed the would be traitor to live.

 

Death loved them so well that it hounded them. It was their closest companion that dodged their very steps.

 

Itachi Uchiha looked at his hands and only saw the blood that stained it. He tried to comfort himself by remembering it was all for the greater good. But the blood that stained his hands, the eyes of the dying that dimmed by his hands, was the sight he could never erase. He had trudged thru his life plotting and scheming for death’s call, because what reason is there to live?

 

Sasuke Uchiha could never forget the dead that populated his every moment. In his sleep he would remember his father and mother falling at the slash of the blade. In his waking moment, he would see the afterimages of his dead clan littering the streets, the bloodstained walls and the coppery smell of blood. In the dreams his brother gave him, he would watched death come to those he loved over and over again while he screamed himself hoarse. He would trudge thru life searching to end the life of his brother and his own. Because what reason is there to live?

 

But then does death truly love them when he refused to take them? End their lives as what is their dearest wish? They had tried their best in courting death to come call. But all they had was a line of bodies not their own.

 

Itachi death bringer with the lives he would take.

 

Sasuke death bringer with the lives that would be taken because of his presence.

 

The death bringer who death would not take nor keep.

 

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“I do agree with Tsunade that we should allow Itachi Uchiha to live,” Elder Koharu spoke, ending the glaring stand off.

 

Tsunade gaped in surprise at those words, too shocked to fathom that one of the intransigent elders would find merit in her ideas. Homura, her fellow elder, turned a thundering stare at her betrayal, while Danzō surveyed the tableau serenely.

 

“You actually agree with this naive child that we tell the populace Itachi Uchiha was our agent inside the Akatsuki?!”

 

Homura was a study of incredulity as he said those words, “And if the people start to question the Uchiha massacre? Do we tell them that we ordered it? Or do we take it further and tell them it was part of the Nidaime’s plan should the Uchiha Clan rebel?!”

 

“I’m not that stupid,” Tsunade snarked back, stung by the low opinion the words painted of her. “Of course we can’t tell them about the Uchiha massacre, we may have a possible rebellion if the truth comes out.”

 

“And give credence to Suna’s attempted invasion,” Koharu interjected. “They’ve partially circumnavigated the tariffs we levied them as a penalty for the invasion. Such information will give them just cause to totally ignore it,” she muttered before throwing a studying glance at Tsunade’s way. “Just remember Princess, your boy Naruto may be friends with the Kazekage, but Suna and the Land of the Wind is the most loyal to the Uchiha among the five great Shinobi nations. So loyal that the Senju will never gain any of the Wind’s respect nor trust. Our peaceful coexistence with them is because of the Uchiha, and with the Uchiha gone, they have no qualms with turning back at us. Just look at how they have tried to shut us off from trading with them at that dratted boy’s behest!”

 

The words, boy, hung in the air with such derision. The whole room was well aware of the boy Koharu spoke of, Sasuke Uchiha who had forged a trading alliance that undercut Konoha’s long held status of middlemen.

 

“Anyhow,” Tsunade cut through the boiling tempers in the room. Any mention of Sasuke Uchiha has always sent the elders in a tizzy, especially Koharu who cursed the said boy in his successful attempts in challenging the Land of Fire’s economic dominance. “We need a hero people can rally behind now that Jiraiya’s dead and the Akatsuki more aggressive. What better way than this story? A courageous and brilliant Shinobi who sacrificed his good name to serve his country unflinchingly. And the fact he pulled the wool over the Akatsuki’s eyes is a cherry on top.”

 

All this got a look of disbelief from Homura, much to Tsunade’s dismay. The old coot had always been stubborn and unmoving, while Danzō was no help. He was seemingly more mummy than a man that it was nigh impossible to get a read on him.

 

“Plus we need to strengthen our alliances that the massacre and the traitor Sasuke weakened,” Koharu added much to Tsunade’s relief. Perhaps the old bat would be able to convince the other two fossils. “Most of our treaties hinges on the Uchiha and their reputation. It was something all the past Hokages took advantage off, but forgot how much of the double edged sword it was. And that blasted Hikaku and Kenshin exploited it,” Koharu spat, naming the previous Uchiha heads who had been Konaha’s best Shinobi-diplomats, even with the edict that all Shinobi Uchiha must serve in the military police. “But since Itachi believed he killed Sasuke and now he is back in Konoha’s bosom. The other nations would not be able to question it. The older brother, the current clan head back with his name cleared; he will represent the Land of Fire well.”

 

“And we cannot let such a weapon die as well,” Danzō rumbled, effortlessly drawing all attention to him. “When your grandfather died and passed none with the gift of the Mokuton, it was such a blow to our military strength. And to simply loose the Sharingan when we now have a chance to breed it, is wasteful.”

 

Homura harrumphed. He knew full well he had been outvoted.

 

“Worry not Homura,” Danzō soothed. “Itachi Uchiha has shown himself to be very loyal and open to the advise of the Hokage and the council. He will do what is best for this country.”

 

“Well I hope you’re right or it will be all our necks in the chopping block.”

 

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From time to time, Tsunade would think of her grandfather and his haunted gaze. Not that he would let a child see into the cheerful idealistic mask he put on to the world, but sometimes the mask would slip. She would find herself peering furtively as weariness would overtake him. Such a strong man would be bent and bowed like Atlas, and her young self had always wanted to comfort him. But she always held back, as even at a young age she knew it would not be welcomed. All she would get was trite meaningless words.

 

Now as Hokage she realised why her grandfather was crushed by such a weight. This was a world full of secrets and lies, a power mad game that would drive anyone in grief. Surely this was the reason he wiled away his spare time gambling in order to forget. And this is why her father refused the hat and instead spent days entertaining his noble wife and brother in law. Better to hide your head in the sand than bury yourself in the weight of secrets.

 

She will now be burdening two men with such a secret. Men who never asked for such a thing and only wished to serve their gods be damned village. May the gods have mercy on her soul. But what can she do? Jiraiya had carried the burden as the handler. He was now gone and they are at a cusp of change. Tsunade had no choice but to act, make these impossible choices and hoped for the best.

 

“Inoichi,” Tsunade addressed the Head of the Analysis Division. “Itachi Uchiha reported that he killed his brother, were you able to confirm it?”

 

“Given his shocked state, Itachi Uchiha had quite strong shielding,” the blonde mussed. “But I was able to glean images of the final outcome. There was no signs of memory tampering so I’m sure it is accurate. He was able to drive his hand thru Sasuke Uchiha’s left lung. It’s fatal if no expert medical attention was given.”

 

“Kakashi,” she turned her attention to the Jounin that led the team in investigating the confrontation. “What’s your assessment?”

 

“Itachi Uchiha’s right hand was covered in blood and his clothes had the correct blood spray pattern as a point blank hit Yamanaka described. There was also a blood pool a few feet away from him, showing Sasuke Uchiha must have staggered backwards. But there is no body or presence of marks to show he was dragged away.”

 

“So I am to assume you believe that Sasuke Uchiha is alive?”

 

“No without certainty,” Kakashi spoke flatly. “But there is a huge possibility.”

 

Tsunade took a deep breath and observed the two men. She had chosen them because she needed the intelligence division onboard. She understood why secrecy must be tantamount, but her predecessor’s decision to keep such an important intelligence gathering operation to the minimum of spy and handler left the operation easy to disrupt. Case to point when the Sadaima died and Jiraiya had to personally brief her of the situation. Or when Jiraiya died and she found herself scrambling for a way to reach the agent without blowing his cover sky high. And Kakashi, because he had everything that she needed to complete this new unholy trio. He had proven himself a top operative and head. He had worked with Itachi. And the final nail was she was considering him as her successor, it’s better he be exposed to the inner workings of Konoha and all the stench it entailed.

 

“Gentlemen,” she spoke grimly. “This information that I will impart to you is of the highest level of secrecy. It very much essential to this long term mission you are both assigned too.”

 

Her gaze bored at the two. Tsunade knew this would be a trial. The information that would be released had an ability to break any man. She handed them a thick scroll as her blood seep into the seal, opening it. With bated breath, she watched as for the first time in so long, the details of the Firestorm Initiative crafted by Tobirama Senju would be seen my outsiders.

 

Minutes ticked by and Inoichi Yamanaka stared at her in shock. The man’s face was pale. He looked at loss for words.

 

“So,” he licked his lips, truly uncomfortable. “What’s the mission?”

 

“Am I to assume you still have need of Itachi Uchiha,” Kakashi spoke blandly. He projected an iron clad indifference to the information. Too indifferent that Tsunade wondered if she had miscalculated. No matter what you say, Kakashi Hatake was one of the few left with ties to the Uchiha. Certainly, everyone knew the ruckus the clan made when Kakashi came home with the Sharingan. But then she remembered how suddenly it was no longer talked about. Or the fact that he had at least been teammates with three Uchihas. Something no one could ever match.

 

“When the Firestorm Initiative was initiated by the Sandaima and the Konoha elders, it was quickly realised that there was consequences to loosing the Uchiha,” Tsunade explained. She tried to keep her voice steady, in part to calm Inoichi down. Another to see if there will be any break in Kakashi’s mask. “It’s the reason why Itachi was allowed to negotiate for Sasuke’s life. Unfortunately, we realised how understated was the repercussions for the loss of the clan when Sasuke defected...I’m sure you saw it Kakashi when we sent you to Suna?”

 

Tsunade turned a challenging glance at the said man. She has reviewed his mission report once again, and now she had a sinking suspicion he may have undersold the situation at worse or at least underestimated it.

 

“Well, Wind was Wind,” Kakashi shrugged. “And almost all the time Sasuke was dodging assassinations left and right that the guards literally looked at all visitors with suspicion.”

 

Tsunade let those words sink it. It was the same conclusion his report contained, though said in a more lackadaisical style.

 

“We now have need for the Uchiha to be seen as integral to Konoha,” Tsunade spoke. “In order for him to quickly reintegrate, we will release the information to the public that Itachi Uchiha took the fall in order to investigate the man who carried out the massacre. Aside from that, we will release rumours that the massacre was by the Akatsuki. The whole time he had been undercover in investigating not only his clan’s murderers, but this worldwide terror organisation. Also, make sure rumours of Sasuke Uchiha’s death will be circulated.”

 

She took a deep breath, before turning her gaze at her Intelligence head. “Inoichi,” she called him. “You’ll be in charge of how we spread those rumours. I want to reach far and wide not only within Konoha and the Land of Fire, but to other nations as well. Make sure that it reaches those lands whose relationship with us has deteriorated, most especially with the Izumo Taisha Lands. But I want those rumours to reach everywhere. You also have to track down Sasuke. I’m sure he survived so I want to know what he’s doing.”

 

She let her gaze encompass the two. “Kakashi,” she bit out. “You and Inoichi will be Itachi’s handler, but you’ll be the primary one. Your mission with Itachi is twofold. The first is political...”

 

It bought a annoyed groan from the said Jounin. “There is no sane or insane Shinobi who would even take such a mission if they had a choice. Hokage-same,” he spoke in an exaggerated ingratiating manner. “I can tell you there’s someone better out there.”

 

His two companions lips twitched. In fact, Tsunade found her misgivings melting away at the typical response she’s seen at all her Shinobi with the mention of a political mission. Inoichi hid his glee with a cough, relieves himself that he escaped that part of the mission.

 

“Political,” Tsunade repeated with a smile. “You’re to help him restore and hopefully strengthen our old treaties, help gather information on who we have to target in order to help push our agenda. Your also to observe Itachi, make sure he is not compromised. Lastly, we’ll need to revive the Uchiha Clan quickly so find what his female preferences are.”

 

Inoichi choked while Kakashi boldly allowed amusement to seep through his eyes.

 

“Hokage-sama,” the Yamanaka head exclaimed. “He’s too young!”

 

“And he has a target painted on his back,” she replied drolly. “And we’ve locked ourselves in a corner. We need that bloodline and clan to still exist. Understood?”

 

She turned an intense stare at her subordinates, not letting up until they nodded. It should have been a relief such acquiescence, but Tsunade found herself still uneasy. It was almost like a beginning of an end.

 

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The world was dark and there was nothing but pain. A red hot twisting thing that robbed him of his very breath. Sasuke gasped awake. His eyes were blurry with tears.

 

“Hush,” a oh so familiar voice soothed. His fingers twitched too weak to move when clawed hands cradled his own. He knew them.

 

Garuda, he named them.

 

Sasuke let go and fell into darkness.

 

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It was strange seeing his childhood home once again. Itachi had always thought he would never see it again. Comforted himself with the last memory of his home he etched with his Sharingan; his father seated in the veranda reading a book, his mother calling her boys for tea while Sasuke with Shisui chased butterflies in the garden. He had stood there remembering everything; struck with an inkling that it would soon all go to hell.

 

He couldn’t move. Looking at the oddly pristine structure against it’s dilapidated surroundings. His childhood home was a picture perfect museum. Everything was oiled and painted to perfection. Even the gardens were regimented into an almost fanatical precision. The only sign it had been abandoned for years was the slowly encroaching weeds and the plants that have started to overrun its borders. But against the ruin it laid in, it was almost unreal.

 

A whistle of appreciation rang behind him.

 

“Well Sasuke kept a good house,” Kakashi spoke in an admiring tone as he stepped forward to stand besides him.

 

“You’ve never been here?” Itachi asked with a lump in his throat.

 

“Never did. No one ever did.”

 

Itachi closed his eyes. A myriad of emotions bubbled through him. He could almost see Sasuke’s cool dark eyes when he called him a liar.

 

‘ _You don’t love me_ ,’ his little brother’s words rang in his mind. _‘If you did, you should have at least let me die.’_

 

‘I’m sorry,’ Itachi thought back, hoping his brother would her him somehow.

 

‘ _Regret is for fools without conviction_ ,’ a sibilant hiss cut through his thoughts. In a mind’s eye, Itachi could see the smug snake currently living in him, watching him mockingly. ‘ _If you have a goal, then let everything fall on the wayside. What does it matter as long as you reach it? What is your goal Itachi?’_

 

‘ _Peace_ ,’ he whispered back. He was surprised he replied, having long ignored his unwanted tenant. ‘ _My brother and Konoha to prosper_.’

 

Orochimaru laughed. It was loud and braying, contorting his body as he collapsed in a fit. He spoke no more. His laughter was enough. It was a mocking condemnation. He disappeared from Itachi’s consciousness, leaving nothing but his scornful cackles.

 

Kakashi’s voice brought him back to the present. He was so wrapped in his mind that he didn’t realised presence of two interlopers. The Kyuubi boy and his teammate, members of Sasuke’s old team.

 

“Kakashi-sensei,” both of them spoke abashed as their former teacher blocked their way.

 

“We heard Baa-chan’s announcement,” Naruto plowed thru. “If he was on our side, why did he do it?”

 

Naruto did not need to explain. All of them could easily understand what he meant. The question that surely burned in every mind when his innocence was proclaimed. Why did he come back to torture Sasuke if he was on Konoha’s side? Why go to such lengths that it drove a young boy to defect.

 

“If I said it was for the good of Konoha,” Itachi replied in a seemingly indifferent tone. In truth, he wasn’t. He was truly interested on what this boy thought, the boy whose charisma captured the imagination of the jaded and weary.

 

“That’s stupid!” Naruto sputtered out. “There’s no way something that evil would be any good.”

 

“We torture people. We kill them, all in the name of Konoha,” he spoke, watching each and every twist of disbelief flutter through the two young Shinobi’s faces. “What makes it any different from what I’ve done.”

 

“Because they’re the enemy,” Sakura shot back.

 

“Because they’ve done evil things,” Naruto enjoined.

 

“And we have to defend Konoha,” Sakura and Naruto voices rang with conviction.

 

Itachi felt his lips twitch. To be young again. Confident in one’s own conviction.

 

“And if I said it was for Sasuke’s own good?”

 

“Liar!” Naruto burst out, his hands were clenched in a fist. He was shaking in anger. “Stop kidding around!”

 

Itachi was about to respond when Kakashi interfered.

 

“Enough,” Kakashi’s voice was tinged with command. It cut through the growing tension in the air. “Itachi stop winding them up,” he continued, speaking to his supremely unconcerned subordinate when he turned his attention to his mulish former pupil. “Naruto, aren’t you supposed to be leaving?”

 

“Sensei!”

 

“Sakura,” Kakashi ignored the protest, turning to his other wayward former student. “Aren’t you suppose to be responsible and not encourage this tomfoolery?”

 

He was met with an abashed look by Sakura, while Naruto fumed.

 

“Both of you go. I know for a fact the Hokage will not be happy when she hears you’re both here instead of doing what you’re assigned too.”

 

Amidst the loud protests, Itachi tuned them out. Initially, talking to the two young ones gave him a burst of energy. Itachi felt tired and rung out, and he thought they could give him a new view of the world. But it all felt the same. The same sentiment he so believed in. A sentiment he clung too even if it was burden no man should carry.

 

“Shall we go in?” Kakashi spoke as he casually walked towards the front door, much to Itachi’s shock. He rushed to stop Kakashi. Itachi knew too well the dangers the clan head’s home posted to any interloper. Blood seals were poured into every nook and cranny of his home. Protective sigils that prevented any non-Uchiha and uninvited guests to simply enter. He was too late though. As he grasped Kakashi’s wrist, the man had already slid the door open.

 

He was gobsmacked. An uninvited guest would normally be pushed back at such as force that it would be deadly to anyone but a Shinobi.

 

Kakashi smiled at his expression, casually entering the receiving area. The room where Fugaku Uchiha would entertain guests and members of the clan. Members who would simply drop by unannounced with their concerns, well-wishes, complaints, and just their news.

 

“Even if not all the Uchiha accepted me or forgave me for Obito’s death,” Kakashi explained, his eyes distant in contemplation. “He did call me an Uchiha.”

 

“What? I never saw you.”

 

“Why would I return?” Kakashi replied with a shrug. “I was taught enough to understand what a Sharingan means to your clan. I was taught a sliver of your traditions important to this eye, but I could never want to be an Uchiha. It’s too much to simply accept death and betrayal as an inevitability.”

 

“Do you really think so?”

 

“They’re all dead aren’t they?”

 

Itachi could not reply. How could he? He could still remember the clan legends that populated his childhood. Stories of betrayal and treachery. The unloved son who could only earn his father’s contempt and his brother’s abandonment. What could he say when he struck that same blow and ended them all?

 

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Ancient wood, darkened and oiled with age. This was the first thing that greeted Sasuke when he opened his eyes. Wood so old, he could see their stories.

 

The second thing the greeted him was pain. Not the sharp searing one that robbed him of everything, but the slow pounding throb that could not be ignored.

 

For a minute, he knew nothing. His mind was a blank jumbled haze when a figure caught his eye. He turned and saw two figures. One was unfamiliar to him, an aged priest by the virtue of his robes. The other was half man, half bird, Garuda.

 

Memories flashed in Sasuke’s mind. Like a dam that burst, it all poured in.

 

He was Indra kowtowing to his father as he gave a report on the bandit raids that have plagued the northern borders. Disappointment was etched on the Emperor’s features, disapproving that his son never followed the proper forms.

 

He was Tajima, helpless and hopeless as he sent his boys to the battlefield.

 

He was Madara striding past the fearful accusing whispers, the mocking jabs. They were just words anyway, what does he care for them when there was much to do?

 

He was Hikaku, burdened with guilt and hope. He spent his days dealing with a leader who often looked at them with suspicion, but would sometimes soften into contemplation.

 

He was Kenshin, weary and fearful. He could see the intolerance grow day by day.

 

He was Fugaku, a failure as death came knocking to everyone he loved.

 

He was Sasuke, heartsick. His whole family dead, reduced to nothing more than body parts to be traded. He had always wanted to ask his brother why he chose to kill everyone, and when he did, he could only feel disappointment at the answer.

 

Sasuke would remember facing his brother as they traded words. Trite words Itachi would speak that in the end amounted to nothing. He had wondered if that was his life, that was the worth of his family, to be nothing more than shallow sentiments parroted by the unthinking, content in their own little bubble.

 

He had clung to this idea that there was more to this. That Itachi had some higher purpose that made his decision easier to swallow, even if it was just a little.

 

His mind would flash back to his brother driving his hand through his chest. The flash of agony and the sweet sweet darkness that followed. How he wished it was forever.

 

‘ _Hope is the worse_ ,’ Sasuke thought to himself. ‘ _It forces us to endure but it does not fulfil its side of the bargain.’_

 

 _He_ lurched up, not caring of the pain. Threw himself at Garuda. There were exclamations that asked him to take care, but he ignored it. Sharp claws pricked his arms. Feathery wings encircled him in a cocoon.

 

Sasuke shuddered. Released a sob, and it all spilled out.

 

“I want to die,’ Sasuke cried out. “Why can’t you just let me die!”

 

As to who Sasuke meant by, who can tell? He had given up on his life too many times to count, but all the time someone would not let him go.

 

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Itachi at first welcomed the political and information gathering mission to the Land of the Wind. Even if it was accompanied with Kakashi, it was such a relief to get out of Konoha. He had found himself absolutely tired with how people had viewed him upon his return. The looks of awe that he would receive, or the self-congratulatory pats on the back people would give themselves while saying they knew it all along. It was tiring. All this level of praise and smug satisfaction. Itachi had never wanted this. He had just wanted to do what was right. Wanted to give this sense of pride and accomplishment to his brother. There was nothing he wanted for himself but peace, an end to all he endured. It wasn’t much to ask for. And yet he never got it.

 

Just getting out of Konoha was enough for him. Never mind that this mission was to simply gauge how the other nations would see him. He wasn’t afraid of it. He had nothing to hide. He was a simple Shinobi who did his duty. Anyone should be able to understand that.

 

In fact, the brief had determined the mission as relatively simple. It was stacked into Konoha’s favour with both Kakashi and Itachi together. The Land of the Wind had always been known to be soft towards the Uchiha. Any treaty between the two nations, negotiations always flowed smoother with the presence of an Uchiha clan head. As to the reasons why, no one could really say, and both the Uchiha and the denizens of the Wind has remained mum on this good fortune. Kakashi, on the other hand, was the leader of the mission that saved Gaara’s life. The current Kazekage that had arrived to power with an uncontested mandate. A near unheard of feat in this day and age. It was determined that these two factors should stop any lingering resentment from bubbling over.

 

It was unfortunately a wholly wrong assessment. Their mission had barely got off the ground and it already had all the hallmarks of a rocky one. Instead of meeting the Wind Daimyo and the Kazekage at either their residences, they were instead called upon to go to the Atsuta Shrine. There was nothing insulting with moving to the shrine as the Atsuta was the most sacred of temples in the Land of the Wind. Even every nation considered the said shrine sacred for it housed the storm god, Susanoo, one of the major deities. But it was unprecedented. It also made their secondary mission much harder, as they were supposed to acquire intelligence from their contact within the shrine. The presence of the two leaders made security much tighter and the situation more delicate.

 

“So this is the traitor?” The Wind Daimyo, Lord Shigeru spoke as his gaze rested at Itachi. “How disappointing.”

 

It took all of Itachi’s control to remain impassive. He didn’t want to give Lord Shigeru the satisfaction that his words had hit hard. He had to get used to it, being labelled as a traitor. It would be naive of him to think everyone accepted the story Konoha has released to all the sundry.

 

“My Lord,” Kakashi spoke. “I assure you that Itachi has been a loyal Shinobi helping in our fight against the terrorists.”

 

Lord Shigeru smiled at the assurances. Itachi found it an unsettling smile. There was no warmth to it not a flicker of understanding, instead there was a knowing gleam to it, secretive. It was almost as if the Daimyo was amused at their own ignorance. As to what the supposed ignorance is, Itachi could not tell.

 

Itachi took a peak at the Lord’s other companions, talking advantage of the fact that Kakashi would have demanded everyone’s attention with the normal song and diplomacy. This had been an oddly small diplomatic meeting. Instead of the being surrounded with his coterie of advisors, Kakashi and Itachi had been simply greeted by three men, the Daimyo, the Kazekage, and the Head Priest of the Atsuta Shrine. Some would say, a fitting representation of a nation, the political bureaucracy, the military might, and the religious belief.

 

Looking at the two, Itachi was unable to parse the Daimyo’s plan. The Kazekage, Gaara, was stoically unreadable, while the head priest, Masahiro Abe, was obviously confused. Or perhaps such a reaction was telling. Gaara after all came to power with an unprecedented mandate and a impeccable lineage. Masahiro Abe was a young unknown upstart, seemingly plucked from the ether upon his predecessor’s death. The religious clans have all been silent on his ascension as the head of Wind’s most sacred shrine, giving out a sense his presence was to be endured. It also didn’t help that Gaara may be a known friend of Naruto and hopefully a friend of the Land of Fire and Konoha, but they were all simply hopes as he had never made any overtures in his place as Kazekage. Abe, on the other hand, was Konoha’s secret source for intelligence within the Land of the Wind, while maintaining an indifferent facade to it. A fact, the Konoha Shinobi, only became aware of due to the twofold nature of their mission.

 

Itachi turned his attention back at Lord Shigeru, and to his surprise the old man had been studying him. It was a weighted stare, heavy in disgruntlement.

 

Itachi could feel himself flush. To be caught with his attention elsewhere while Kakashi tried to bring out Konoha’s proposal on the fight against the Akatsuki with a reminder of the various treaties the two nations have signed. The proposal was a complicated mix of intelligence gathering, a mutual defence response, and a war plan of attack.

 

“Tell the Senju that we honour our agreements,” Lord Shigeru replied back at the proposal. It was a rebuttal by the Lord on the age old mutual defence treaty conceived long before during the reign of Shodaima.

 

Itachi found that response laughable. Suna had after all tried to invade Konoha and it was Konoha’s response that saved the Kazekage’s life, since when had Suna ever honoured the mutual defence.

 

“As we have,” Itachi responded with all the diplomacy it entailed, when he really wanted to remind all the shenanigans of recent pasts.

 

“If you’re talking about your assistance for saving the Kazekage, we are grateful. But we’ve already paid for it in more than blood.”

 

Lord Shigeru’s words brought about stillness. Gaara drew himself upright, as if putting on armour, while Abe stiffened oh so nervously. Kakashi had stilled, staring at the Daimyo like a predator watching prey.

 

Itachi didn’t know what to say. He had remembered reading the treaty that was enacted after the life of the Kazekage was saved. It essentially allowed the open exchange between the Ise Shrine and the Atsuta Shrine, the seat of religious power between Fire and Wind respectively. It was such a small thing to the Land of Fire, religion having been deemed irrelevant by the populace, yet it seemed not to be the case in the Land of the Wind.

 

“Tell me Itachi Uchiha,” Lord Shigeru continued. “What advice will you give us?”

 

“My Lord,” he replied stiffly. He realised with alarm that the room had zoomed all their attention to him. “Of course I will say to take the defence extension treaty that we proposed. It’s not just because I am a loyal Shinobi of Konoha, but we come in good faith.”

 

“If good faith was all it took, then we wouldn’t be having this problem. It was your good faith that created the Jinchuriki and brought about the First World War. It was your good faith that started the Second World War. And look at what it wrought?”

 

The old lord bored a intense gaze at both Kakashi and Itachi before he continued speaking, “I wanted to know what advice the Uchiha’s loyal to Konoha would give? Would you be like your ancestors, when Lord Hikaku cautioned us from taking Shukaku as a gift. He had called the jinchuriki an abomination, a conceit to control what must not be controlled, and that it will only bring grief. Or when Lord Kenshin spoke that the banner that Konoha raised at the start of the Second World War was incompatible with our beliefs. It was better if we fought for what we stood for.”

 

Itachi listened with bated breathe. It was the first time he heard such stories. He had always simply associated his clan with arrogance and its isolationism. To hear such stories refuting it from a foreigner was unbelievable.

 

“We rejected the first advice and accepted the second. But they were both right in the end. So tell me,” Lord Shigeru intoned. “What words of wisdom will you both impart.”

 

“We may be at this point were we have no choice but to fight,” Kakashi replied. “We have to protect what we hold dear.”

 

“Love huh? Lord Fugaku said the same thing once,”

 

Silence. Shock reverberate between the Konoha delegation. Itachi licked his lips. He didn’t understand how his father, a lowly police chief had been able to have the ear of a foreign ruler. The leader of one of the Great Shinobi Nations to boot. And the level of respect, all the Uchiha clan heads have been given. It had just struck him, that the Daimyo had called all the Uchiha clan heads as lord. It was not the normal respectful address of sir that was sometimes afforded to the ancient clan heads. He wanted to ask, how and why. It was madness. Even Kakashi was stunned by such a revelation.

 

Before, he could ask, Lord Shigeru leaned back. Such a languid posture that signified he would no longer lead the conversation. Gaara had leaned forward, talking the old man’s place, speaking.

 

“Let’s start with intelligence exchange, but only on relevant information,” Gaara began when he brought out a sealed scroll. There was a sense of shock and nervousness at the sight. It was nondescript scroll, and it should not have caused such a reaction. Unfortunately, buried underneath it’s unremarkable exterior was the ever so faint sense of chakra seals unique to Konoha’s intelligence division. It should have been unrecognisable unless you knew what to look for and was actively looking for it. “Not this.”

 

He threw the scroll at Abe who scrambled about in awkward attempt to catch it. The priest’s hands were trembling.

 

“We never tampered it,” Gaara spoke dryly at the ever increasingly uncomfortable atmosphere. “But you can look to be sure.”

 

Masahiro Abe was stunned into indecision. Kakashi and Itachi were tense, ready to act should violence erupt. Itachi despaired at such a scenario. This wasn’t what he was fighting for, enduring his thankless existence for.

 

“Go on,” Lord Shigeru quipped against the coolness radiating from his younger Co-ruler. The head of the Atsuta Shrine swallowed uncomfortably as he fiddled and opened it for examination. After a tense few seconds, he nodded ever so slowly.

 

“This is the first and the last time we’re allowing this,” Gaara continued with a narrow gaze as he casually swiped the scroll back and tossed it towards Kakashi. “You can take this information. Consider my debt to Konoha paid in full.”

 

Itachi didn’t know what gods to thank with their good fortune. It was looking like they need not fight for their lives, and that Suna was allowing them a bit of leeway. His gaze flickered to Abe who had lost all colour during the exchange. Now, the priest’s life may be hanging in the balance. A spy caught would normally be executed and disavowed.

 

“And His Most Reverend Abe?” Itachi could not help but ask.

 

“Didn’t Lord Shigeru assure you we honour our agreements?” Gaara replied softly as if to chasten him to thinking such a scenario.

 

“And we knew what we were getting when we accepted your demands on our shrines,” Lord Shigeru chimed in. “Senju,” he declared with an unwavering gaze at Itachi.

 

Itachi did not back down from the challenge. He had to admit, he was not totally clear what the challenge was. The Wind Daimyo had the advantage. He had set the field and had spoken nothing about the rules, but Itachi knew it was his duty to endure and give no quarter. He was tasked with representing Konoha with all its hopes and dreams.

 

The Lord’s lips tugged into a pitying smile, when Gaara broke it with a pointed clearing of his throat.

 

“Go now,” Lord Shigeru spoke, encompassing his attention to the two Konoha Shinobi. “Tell Konoha if they truly want us to take their proposal seriously, send something worth our while, and not this repetitive drivel that’s only a cover for your skulduggery.”

 

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The sight of darkened aged wood greeted Sasuke when he once again swam into consciousness. Every joint and groove found in the ancient ceiling, unveiled its stories.

 

It was madness. He could feel his Sharingan respond to their tales. It was like a cacophony of sound. Jarring and inescapable. He could see it all. The ancient priests and the rustle of silks as they painstakingly copy word after word. The hum of prayers against the burning of incense. The click clack of feet. The chink of tea cups. The ringing of steel. The spray of blood.

 

He was drowning.

 

“Look at me, look at me,” frantic faint words wormed into the maelstrom that was consuming him. But it had little effect. Even the sharp stinging slaps at his cheek could not shake him out of it. It was until his chest burned. His barely knitted wound cried out at the digging pressure it was not suppose to endure. Sasuke gasped out. His hand gripped the source of his agony. Fingers met papery skin as the intense pain snapped him out of the overwhelming vision.

 

Their eyes met. Eyes that were equally weighted and weary. Sasuke saw the familiar features of the priest he saw besides Garuda when he first awoke.

 

“Who?”

 

“I am Sorata Yamamoto, my Lord,” the aged priest replied. “You’re at the Izumo Taisha shrine. Garuda bought you here when you were injured.”

 

“What is this place?” Sasuke murmured in confusion. He may have been brought out of the vision, but he could still feel the place. It surrounded him. Spoke to him. Demanded his attention that he felt torn and adrift. Just staying in the present took all his energy.

 

“It’s our most ancient temple,” Sorata spoke as he tightened the bandages around Sasuke’s wound. “Dedicated to the most ancient ones, the Kotoamatsukami. The gods who even preceded our creators. The spirits are easily felt here, that’s why it affects you so.”

 

“This is why the veil between the physical world and the world of the spirits in thin here,” Garuda continued the explanation. Upon his entry to the room, he had swiftly kneeled besides the two men. “I wanted to bring you to my lands to heal, but you were too weak to survive the crossing. His Holiness Sorata had to heal you a little bit and it is here at the Izumo Taisha shrine that the journey between worlds will be the easiest.”

 

Garuda suddenly stiffened, as if hearing something. He and the priest threw knowing looks at each other when he suddenly carried Sasuke is his arms.

 

Sasuke bit back a cry of pain against the jarring movement, whilst Sorata had followed Garuda’s lead. The priest stood to go and was carrying packs and parcels for travel. It was agony for Sasuke, even as he was cradled by Garuda, as they hurriedly traversed the shrine. Every slight movement was torture, yet he was grateful for it. For without the pain, he knew he would once again be lost in the whispers of the shrine.

 

Hurry,” a caw caught their attention. It came from a huge three legged crow, black as night, who swooped towards them. It landed on Sasuke. It’s three legs, particularly gentle on his ravaged body.

 

Sasuke’s eyes widened in wonder at the familiar sight. It was his father’s unnamed summon, would had always stood guard at them. Even though, the crow had been kept a secret from Konoha, it had always kept an eye on them, hidden by the shadows. Sasuke has always thought he would never see it again, having disappeared during the massacre.

 

Sasuke felt Fugaku bloom in his mind. It overwhelmed him, but Sasuke could not care one iota. He welcomed it. Sasuke found no merit in his life. It would be a blessing to him for it to end.

 

“Yatagarasu,” Sasuke as Fugaku greeted his loyal summon. His voice tinged with so much regret. He never wanted Yatagarasu to see his death. He had dismissed him that day, but the stubborn creature had stayed. Watched and sang a mournful dirge in that bloody day.

 

“Fugaku,” Yatagarasu chided. “You have to stop.”

 

“I’m trying,” Fugaku replies in a voice filled with frustration. “But Sasuke keeps trying to let go.”

 

“Oh child,” it crooned in the same tone it used to comfort him all his life. “Let it be. You can’t bend the unwilling. He has to find his will on his own.”

 

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“Kakashi,” Tsunade murmured once she sensed his presence within her office. She had been unable to face him,even when he returned her greeting. She was too tired, so she continued to look out into the moon. The intelligence scroll Kakashi and Itachi returned with their mission from the Atsuta Shrine burned in her hand.

 

“We may have to send Itachi to assassinate the head of the Izumo Taisha Shrine,” she declared to a stunned silence. It was a bitter pill to swallow. She had not wanted to say it when Masahiro Abe’s intelligence was received. But here she was saying it.

 

“Are you mad?” Kakashi exclaimed. “We will loose him.”

 

She knew very well Kakashi’s concerns. They may have created a near perfectly loyal Shinobi in Itachi, but the very foundation of it was cracking. One can only endure so much, until it inevitably broke.

 

“We cannot let their defiance pass. They have to pay the price,” Tsunade sighed. She was a coward, truly, as she continued to refuse to face her subordinate. She could almost hear his tightly leashed anger and disbelief. She really had to explain, but to say it felt like she will be damning herself and all who will hear it. “If we send someone else, there will be war. They just might accept a judgment of an Uchiha.”

 

“And how sure are you that will see it as an Uchiha’s judgement and not the death-bringer of Konoha?”

 

Her features twisted into a grimace as she continued to stare outside.

 

“We can only hope.”

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shrines, Ise, Atsuta and Izumi Taisho are real Japanese shrines. Ise is linked to Amaterasu. Atsuta is linked to the sacred sword, Kusanagi, and the story of Takeru. Izumi Taisho is linked to the Kotoamatsukami
> 
> The three legged crow, Yatagarasu (八咫烏, "eight-span crow") is part of Japanese mythology and the appearance of the great bird is construed as evidence of the will of Heaven or divine intervention in human affairs. He most famously guided the Emperor Jimmu Tennou to the plains of Yamato.
> 
> \-----
> 
> This story has unfortunately turned very political. I didn't want to at first, but I was very stupid in making this a story about emperors and kings, so in the end I have no choice but to go there. So in a sense this is my take on how nations try to maintain power both inside and outside their country, and the tricks they use. Do tell me if this was successful or not? Or was this plain stupid?
> 
> Lastly, if you do see errors or have comments and suggestions. I will be glad to hear it. Thanks!


	4. Tales of the Storm God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> History repeats itself. Myths and legends can become cornerstones of the land and it's people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to have a start and resolution with this chapter, but I realised i was probably rushing it. Since, this isn't oneshots as I first imagined, I thought a build-up would be better. I have to ask everyone what do they think about the switching POVs and events? Do you like it or would it be better to stick to one per chapter instead of this juggling act? What do you think?  
> As always, I have no beta so I probably missed a bit of typos and awkward phrasings. Please do tell me if there is anything.  
> Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated.

**IV - Tales of the Storm God**

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Gaara released a long contained sigh as he stepped out of the room. He didn’t know what to feel after the conversation with his Most Reverend Abe. Actually, he wondered if that man deserved the title of Most Reverend for all the contempt he felt for his office.

 

“Religion is nothing more than an opium of the masses,” Masahiro Abe shrugged. His confidence having returned when he realised he was not going to be persecuted. The treaty with the Land of Fire protected him. His only punishment was his confinement to the Atsuta Shrine. All his movements, curtailed and all conversations, always monitored.

 

“Why do you think you all cling to the memories of the gods and kings when they have truly done nothing?”

 

Gaara stared at disgust in the blathering of the snake. Masahiro Abe has never been a citizen of the Land of the Wind. He never was born one and he surely never saw himself as one. He was simply forced upon their land and their people by the Land of Fire. He had made it very clear when he ascended to the rank of Head Priest of the Atsuta Shrine, Masahiro Abe made no attempts to know and understand the country and the people he was transported to. Instead he judged. Dismissed their traditions and beliefs as old-fashioned and irrelevant against the thinking prevalent in the Land of Fire. It had left their clergy discontent, and the common man confused.

 

The sight of him had always brought a full measure of guilt in Gaara. His life having been traded at the expense of the old high priest of the Atsuta Shrine. When his life was saved by Konoha, a treaty was served by Konoha as a form of payment. It forced not only a unquestioned and unprecedented interference of the Ise Shrine on the Atsuta Shrine, it also demanded the abdication of the Head of the Atsuta to a successor was chosen by Ise.

 

There had been a uproar on those demands. Everyone could see that it was the Land of Fire’s move to influence and bring them under their yoke. He had been horrified that the proposal had been considered. He had been still labouring under the guilt of elder Chiyo’s death, and for him to tolerate the attempts to kill their culture and way of life; he would rather die.

 

Gaara had been prepared for it. Had taken preparations in naming his successor. Let Konoha try to explain their manipulations which would hopefully blow open upon his death. Unfortunately, His Most Reverend Hijitaka had easily predicted his actions. The old man took his own life in the ancient form of ritual suicide.

 

Gaara had remembered gnashing his teeth as the ruling court had come to watch the priest’s sacrifice. Earlier, Lord Shigeru and the old man had called him with knowing looks.

 

“You are one of the few Lord Commanders that have been allowed to challenge the storm god in battle,” Hijitaka spoke, eschewing the title of Kazekage. Kage was a title popularised during the end of the warring states era when countries began to follow the Land of Fire’s lead with the creation of the hidden village system. Considered an innovative solution to the constant state of warfare and constantly shifting borders, it created a secondary highly fortified military capital. Self-sufficient, self-governing and highly unassailable with the ability to easily secure any part of its nation’s borders, the hidden villages ushered the era of stability and the Cold War.

 

Lord Commander was the traditional form of address given to the military leader in the Land of Wind. The Head Priest of the Atsuta Shrine by being the keeper of tradition and culture would just as easily used the ancient forms and its modern equivalents.

 

“In all our history,” he continued. “There has only been three people recorded. The first was the legendary Lord Commander Oda. The second was the first Kazekage, Reto. And the third is you. The people have heard of your deeds and have transformed it to song. They have called you and by extension our land, blessed.”

 

“The Land of Wind will survive,” Lord Shigeru assured Gaara. “We have endured the unendurable before, until His Highness Prince Indra gave us life when he judged Lord Commander Oda worthy.”

 

Gaara would remember the old priest patting him comfortingly at the cheek.

 

“Worry not young Lord Commander,” he would say. “The people have judged you worthy, and isn’t it time the young take our place?”

 

Gaara would never forget those words. It was a little sliver of comfort to him. It was also a reminder of his duty to his people and to the land. Gaara knew that he was no longer a simple boy or a simple Shinobi, he was a symbol of his land. The Land of the Wind, the great desolate nation with untold riches. A land of contradiction, deadly and nurturing, accursed and blessed.

 

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Let us speak of the history of the Land of the Wind. A history so old, it followed the ebb and flow of the Imperial line. It began with a tale of a monk and a mischievous boy. A small drop in the ocean of the first emperor, Jimmu Tennou’s journey to forge the empire. It was a fitting excerpt in the life of the last Crown Prince, Indra, before his father, Emperor Keiko, ripped the land into pieces. A reflection of the nation that saw the start and end of the empire.

 

The journey to forge the empire was perilous. The lands were lawless places where power reigned supreme. Demons and spirits ran unchecked. Men were vagabonds that preyed on the weak and helpless. The then warlord Jimmu Tennou scoured the land to bring order into chaos. Some praised him, others feared him, and a few resisted. But godlike Jimmu would not be deterred. He saw a lawless land where hope was few and men suffered at the vagaries of the powerful. He could not bear such an injustice. He raised his banners with Yatagarasu’s caw. Asked for the blessing of his great grandmother, the goddess Amaterasu, and great grand uncles, the gods Susano’o and Tsukiyomi, and left to raise the hopes of men. Many answered his call. Many flocked to Jimmu for he saw the worth of men. Saw them as more than mere fodder for the spirits and demons to play with as they see fit.

 

Jimmu Tennou rode the lands. Conquering. Taming. Driving the spirits to accept his law. Causing the demons to flee his blade.

 

“Rejoice, rejoice,” Yatagarasu, the three legged crow, would call out. “The Emperor is here.”

 

So these words would ring across the world. The land, the seas, and the skies have found its ruler. The men and spirits have found their king.

 

Jimmu Tennou would travel across his domain. His cohort with him, searching for a place to set their roots. One day they chanced upon miles and miles of rich and verdant fields, dotted with great big forests, where people lived in comfort. Jimmu swung off his horse to meet his people and give his courtesy to the chieftain and his family. With him was the warrior monk, Bunkupu. A fierce and proud man who carried a yoke laden with baskets filled with blessed sand. These baskets protected the emperor and his band, a deterrent to all the tricks the demons play on men. The Emperor may have won the war, but the demons and spirits resented their loss. They hungered for a chance to spill Jimmu’s blood and reclaim their power.

 

But the spirit Shukaku was sly. He may not be able to cast his tricks, but he realised he could still influence the unwary residents of the plain. The younger, the better. So he searched for a young impressionable boy and found it in the chieftains’s young son. A spoiled little boy who knew nothing much mischief.

 

Shukaku whispered in the boy’s ear. Urged him to torment the monk. Played nasty tricks until the Bunkupu lost his temper and chased after the snickering child. The monk was so incensed and quickly forgot his precious burden. All he thought was to catch the brat that made his days a misery. Round and round he chased the boy by the lakeside, until he tripped and sent the blessed sand spilling onto the waters and the earth.

 

Shukaku watched with glee as the sand roared out of its container. All watched aghast as it covered everything in desolation. The lush fields, gone. The mighty forests, dead. The lake, a shimmering basin of sand.

 

The Emperor saw the damage wrought and tried to renegade the curse, but he was powerless. He sought the mercy of the gods, but they too had refused his pleas. Instead the gods sent a Kirin to deliver their judgement. The messenger stood and with the voice of chimes gavethe gods’ decree, that the monk and boy stay and toil in the sands as penance for their carelessness. When Jimmu sought to bring the rest of the people away from the newly cursed land, they thanked him for his courtesy but refused the Emperor’s offer.

 

“This is our land,” the people spoke. “We will live and die here. We will never abandon it even in its hopelessness.”

 

Jimmu wept at those words. He vowed that one day his descendant would come to bring them hope.

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In Sasuke’s mind, it was always dark. It wasn’t because of anything really. It was just what he wanted. It was a reminder and a promise. It was a comfort and a protection. Sasuke realised his mind wasn’t his own any longer. The clamouring of thousands and millions of memories should have enough to turn anyone mad. Sometimes he thought he was mad, but other times he wished he was. Turn mad and let darkness take him until he was a body rotting in the earth. But what were wishes but wants that could never happen.

 

“Memories were a right by an Uchiha,” his mother, Mikoto, would say as she taught him their lore.

 

“It’s a responsibility,” his father, Fugaku, would say as he taught him the Katon.

 

“It can become a curse,” the old Uchiha priest, Genji, would warn.

 

“It’s our burden,” Kouya, the priest-in-waiting, would say.

 

Before, it has confused him. All the different interpretations the different members of his clan would give. Now, he realised they were all correct. Common knowledge would speak of the Sharingan as the source of an Uchiha’s ability to remember with crystal clarity. It was a truth, but not the whole truth. The reality is that the Uchiha were born to remember. Anything they paid attention to would easily be etched in their minds. The Sharingan simply made the process more instinctive and allowed them to grasp even the most minuscule detail and analyse it in one glance. That is why lying to an Uchiha was so difficult. The hitch of your breathe, the thunder of your pulse, the minuscule ticks of your expression, all of them easily remembered and analysed to form a general idea of a person. A deviation from it would reveal much, even those they wished to conceal. This was the reality that the clan kept to themselves. They had already been feared. To know that every secret may never become sacrosanct in their presence would have driven people to cry for their deaths.

 

It’s ironic though, no matter what they did, death did come knocking.

 

Sasuke buried himself in his own memories. He sat and watched the reel of happy days flashed by in his mind like a reel. Father and mother dancing in the kitchen while he hid behind the door. Itachi sharing his dango with him. Shisui swinging him up in the air. Kouya waving hello as Sasuke bounded in the temple. The impassive face of the old priest Genji as he sputtered at his first taste of the harsh bitterness of the ceremonial tea. The colourful sweet Grandma Yuki would pass him to wash the bitter taste away. Uncle Sanosuke’s hand rubbing Aunt Megumi’s swelling tummy. Calligraphy lesson from Uncle Tatsu. The roaring blaze of the ceremonial Katon.

 

He watched these moments, again and again, never tiring. After all, this was the only thing he had left.

 

“Are you just going to hide here?”

 

Sasuke felt his lips tug in amusement as his father’s voice reached his ears. He scoffed.

 

“I’m doing what you just did,” Sasuke shot back. He refused to look back at his father, knowing how his choices had led to this. Sasuke was too tired with all this rampant justification.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Sasuke felt the heat of Fugaku’s at his back. It was strange how real this felt, even though it was all in his mind. Even though Fugaku was nothing more than a conglomeration of memories passed on by his father on his death throes. It felt so much like him. It was as if he was still alive and judging. But perhaps he is. This figure was after all everything that Fugaku has ever experienced and thought of.

 

“Didn’t you decide to die? Didn’t you allow everyone to be killed? Isn’t that hiding as well?!”

 

Sasuke voice turned into a shout. Rage just poured out of him as he whirled to face his father.

 

“You’re a hypocrite,” Sasuke spat out. “You’re both hypocrites. I’m surrounded by hypocrites!”

 

He saw Fugaku’s stricken expression, but he couldn’t stop anymore. He didn’t want to stop as all his frustration boiled over. Frustration of Fugaku who simply gave up and left him to his own devices, a whole clan dead with people secretly braying for his blood. Itachi for saying he did everything because he loved Sasuke when in truth the only thing he loved is himself. Konoha for saying they grieved with his loss when in fact they caused it and celebrated it. For Team Seven who said they cared for him when the only thing they really cared about is their own wishes. Sasuke didn’t see any merit in this world and yet here he was alive because everyone wanted his life to validate their own choices.

 

“I actually maybe thought I could push myself to live,” Sasuke continued speaking. “But knowing all of this why should I? You gave up hope and the will to live. You easily accepted the decision for everyone to die, for you to die. But now you’re demanding that I endure the fallout of your choices, that I live when you couldn’t even do it!”

 

“I loved you,” Fugaku sighed. “But I am a selfish man, I just wanted my children to live.”

 

Sasuke could feel the steamroll of his anger wane. He stared at the figure of his father. The larger than life character that dominated his childhood. The stern bedrock he judged everything. It was strange to see a figure that was all too human, at times weak and fallible, and at times strong and unassailable.

 

“You know,” Sasuke whispered. “I told myself I would live until I could avenge you all and until I would see remorse in brother’s face. But I didn’t get what I hoped for, I got something worse.”

 

Sasuke could feel bitterness well in him. He would remember his last conversation with Itachi. He had actually dreamed of that moment. A faint hope that it wasn’t his brother who did it, a small minuscule chance there was a good reason for everything and that he would no longer be so alone. He didn’t get what he wanted. What he got was worse.

 

Sasuke would remember Itachi’s burning eyes. He would remember the faint ticks in his expression. The light turn of the lips that was a faint sneer. The slight tremor of his fingers as it wanted to bring all the violence it could bear. The oh so tiny hitch in tone, a sense of satisfaction that was hidden behind entreaties. Sasuke realised this was the curse the Most Reverend Genji would talk about. The weary statements he would slip as he taught Sasuke all the ticks an Uchiha would observe and remember. How this created a cornerstone in which a moment was judged.

 

“At the back of his mind, even though he denies it,” Sasuke continued as his mind drifted on how his brother would respond to accusations by the Uchiha. The contempt showed at their close mindedness. “He resented us. And me most especially.”

 

Sasuke would remember how easy it was for Itachi to condemn him in the Tsukiyomi and it’s endless suffering. That there had been no hesitation when Itachi cast the genjutsu; and no matter how Sasuke at first refused to acknowledge it, the undercurrent of satisfaction he felt as it overwhelmed him.

 

Sasuke realised how stupid he was.

 

“This wasn’t just a stroke of desperation that you and the past clan heads were passed onto me, isn’t it?”

 

Even with all those knowledge, he was so wilfully blind. If Itachi was the heir, he should have gotten a smattering of this knowledge. Out of the Fugaku-construct’s lips itself, he did say that these memories should be passed on slowly. To think a declared clan heir who was an adult had no inkling of this was laughable.

 

Fugaku closed his eyes. It was all the proof Sasuke needed. Everything slotted into place. His father suddenly accelerating the milestones he should pass. The way Fugaku would push him to learn the Katon and all its derivatives. His Eminence Genji sudden visits to teach him Uchiha lore and tradition. Or when Kouya would show him all the sacred seals and rituals as if forcing him to etch it in his memories. Or his mother giving him the heirloom tessen of the clan heads and letting him mimic the forms in wielding it. Uncle Tatsu infusing his calligraphy lessons with a treatise of the sacred seals of the Uchiha Clan. Even Grandma Yuki knew when she suddenly began introducing him to scads of strangers and whispered about their place in the different nations.

 

“I’m not sure if he resented me because I never felt the pressure of being clan heir,” Sasuke mused. “But for sure he felt it because he worked so hard, sacrificed so much, and it was snatched away when you declared me clan heir.”

 

“You were both being trained as clan heir,” Fugaku clarified. There was guilt in his eyes. “It’s foolish just to train one. But I made a fatal mistake with Itachi...and Shisui. I thought we could end this standoff if I gave our best and brightest to Konoha. They would serve as a bridgeway to understanding. I thought being raised and surrounded by the clan would be enough. That I pushed them, demanded much from them because I saw them as an avenue to the peace we so longed for. I was wrong, so wrong, when they began to see that it was right for our clan to be locked, to be watched, to be isolated. When they began to sprout the same accusations about our pride, our arrogance, our lack of the will of fire. I was so blinded that they were being accepted that I realised they had fallen into the trap and I could never get them out. I realised Itachi could never become clan head when he could not even find anything of value to the people he was supposed to represent.”

 

A pause and with a self-depreciating look, Fugaku continued, “or maybe I was a weak fool like everything else. I didn’t fight for us. I didn’t fight for them.”

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The loud cries of birds, it was the first thing Sasuke heard as he swam into consciousness. It was an unusual sound. Living in the compound, he got used to the stillness of his empty home. The miasma of death and despair having driven out all. In Konoha, it was the chatter of men and sometimes the faint chirping of birds. When, he left, only the whispers of men would follow him or the hollowed silence of nothingness.

 

Sasuke opened his eyes and found himself in a great grand traditional room. The high wooden vaulted ceiling with it ornate carvings as far as the eye could see with the great towering cedar poles that serve as the support columns. His hands grasped at the rick swatches of silk that covered him while his fingers felt the the plush woven tatami mats beneath him.

 

Pushing himself upright, ignoring the slight pull of his wound, Sasuke looked to the source of the noise. His mouth dropped open in awe. Past the monumental sliding doors was a great balcony made of huge wooden planks and a vast view of the mountains cloaked in misty clouds. It was a picture, where huge birds danced and swooped, calling to each other.

 

Curious, Sasuke stumbled out of the rich confines of his room. His wounds throbbed painfully, though bearably. Sasuke realised that he was at a huge palace complex, perched on the cliffs. The wind was strong and chilly. The wood, cold on his bare feet. Yet he stayed warm, wrapped tightly he was in thick-hewn sleeping silks.

 

A familiar caw got his attention. Sasuke looked up to the source of the sound and found Yatagarasu flying towards him.

 

“You’re back,” the three legged crow spoke happily as it settled on his shoulder. “You kept trying to fade away. Fugaku had a hard time calling you back.”

 

Guilt washed over Sasuke, he thought back of the last conversation he had with his father’s construct. Though there was truth to his statements, the words had been harsh. He had been cruel too. Sasuke carried the same measure of guilt and burden. It was only a foolish boy who would blame all on one man. Fugaku had been long dead, he should give the dead the peace they were due.

 

“I’m sorry,” Sasuke murmured in apology. Before he could say anything more, a solid thump drew their attention away from each other. He gaze flicked to Garuda instead, who had landed, crouched on the wooden floors. Sasuke and the summon king’s eyes met, and he was struck by the relief and worry that shown in those inhuman orbs.

 

“Let me welcome you to my palace, my Lord,” Garuda spoke as he swiftly strode towards Sasuke. “But,” he interjected as he hovered protectively. “You’re not well enough to allow anyone to indulge in their curiosity at your expense.”

 

Sasuke gave a confused stare, wanting to know what he meant. He had woken up alone. He had no one with him except Yatagarasu as company. Garuda met his stare steadily. Yatagarasu was oddly abashed. A second. One, two, when Garuda acquiescent at last. He shifted slightly to give him a view of the vast balcony. Sasuke felt a slight tingle of chakra that sent sharp pinches in his wound. But it was nothing to the sight that bloomed before his very eyes. He was not alone. The vast wooden floor, the blue sky was filled with chimeras and animals dressed as humans. Hundreds, if not thousands. It was eerily silent crowd. They were all staring at him. There was a russet coloured fox in a dark formal kimono, it’s golden eyes intent on him. He saw a raccoon dressed in armor who gripped the handle of its sword and gave him a deep bow. A crane in a traditional priest’s robe clasped its wings in prayer when it saw Sasuke’s wide eyed look. Youkais, will of the wisps, half-men and half-beast creatures, all placed their gaze upon him.

 

“You have crossed my Lands, my Imperial Lord,” Garuda explained. “This is the place where the spirits resides. This is the Land of the Summons.”

 

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Time moved slowly in the Land of the Summons. Sasuke realized it early on. Perhaps it was because he was slowly recovering under the stern auspices of the Head Priest Sorata Yamamoto. The man had strangely followed him to Garuda’s lands, making them the only humans present.

 

It may also be because Garuda and Yatagarasu had zealously guarded his privacy. Sasuke would remember the imperious command Garuda had snapped out, sending all his curious subjects scrambling away. Yatagarasu had sternly observed any of the summons who had visited Sasuke, making sure they never exhausted him, and driving away everyone when he found himself drifting in tiredness. So much so Sasuke sometime felt he was being treated like glass. Like they would rather not tell him anything, let him do anything, afraid any little thing would send him shattering into pieces.

 

 

It could also because he had realized this land was a peaceful place. The constant push and pull of borders found in the other side of the veil was anathema to the spirits. Oh they knew of war, for these summons answer the call of men. But it was not for lust of power and control, it was more of a complicated mix of loyalty, fate, and love. Summons can fight each other in the world of men, bound they were to the tightest threads to the one who summoned them. But in their lands, it is the ancient laws that bound them. The divine will of the gods that have set an unbreakable path to them. Wars are never fought in the Land of the Summons for each summons’ fate in their world has been carved from the beginning to end. 

 

Sasuke thought it was such a strange feeling. At the back of his mind, he wondered if this was the peace that he sought. There was a sense of stillness so immovable, he had never thought it possible. Sasuke could never get used to the feeling, the feeling that there was nothing pushing him just as there was nothing waiting for him. That everything was written from start to finish, and there was nothing more to be said.

 

Don’t get him wrong. There was a certain sense of easiness to it. You could say it was a glorious idea, to simply rest with no expectation. It was freeing to know there were no consequences to any of his actions. No eyes waiting to pounce at any little mistake. But he did feel a bit aimless, lethargic.

 

“You’re getting better,” His Holiness Sorata Yamamoto observed as he began to re-bandage Sasuke’s wound. “I’m glad.”

 

Sasuke gave a murmur of thanks. He tried to draw up his courage in asking why the leader of all the shrines would spend his time in healing him. It’s not as if he was ignorant of his clan’s place in history. Although clan myths and legends only allude to their rich history, his father made sure he knew it well by the memory transference Sasuke was subjected to. But it was more of the reality that the Uchiha is but a dead clan. It was also because he could not help but see himself as a failure. Didn’t he fail as Indra when he let the empire plunge into civil war? Fail again and again from protecting his people in the warring states era? Fail as Madara when he could not show his people the bleak future that he saw? Or that he failed time and time again with every Great War that happened? When he failed to protect his own son and clan from certain death? When he as Sasuke failed to amount to anything?

 

Even when his ancestors failed, they at least did something. They at least made something of their life. And what about him? He just lived a useless life unable to even give peace that his dead clan should have.

 

“Why?” Sasuke at last spoke. He couldn’t even ask more. Such a coward he was.

 

“Many reasons,” Sorata replied. His tone was soft, contemplative. “I could say that we honour the rightful Imperial line...but that’s not the whole story.” A pause before he continued, “Loyalty is earned by deeds. I can’t say for my predecessors, but for me I remember your father, your grandfather and even your great grandfather. I most especially remember Lord Kenshin, your great grandfather. I was so young back then, and I didn’t know how to handle a tricky dispute. He just swept in. Charismatic, almost arrogant in his assertion, but by the gods how he handled it masterfully. And then I realised he was kind, he just had to be so self-assured so no doubt would fester. That’s one important lesson I learned from him.”

 

Sasuke turned curiously. He was fascinated at the nostalgic look he found at His Holiness’ face.

 

Sorata gave Sasuke a find smile as he said, “then there’s you.”

 

“Me?”

 

“Do you remember when I visited you in disguise?”

 

“Whatever for,” Sasuke asked in confusion. He did remember that day when Grandmother Yuki introduced him to a supposed random monk on a pilgrimage. He had found the monk suspicious for every word that he said rang false. Hiding behind his grandma’s legs, he had slowly warmed up to him upon seeing grandmother’s knowing twinkle in her eye. Now that he had been properly introduced, he realised it was His Holiness. But back then, he simply introduced himself as the monk, Basho. It was just a silly thing now that he thought of it. The stupid self-importance of a child.

 

“I fooled most of the Konoha Shinobi,” Sorata spoke. “Maybe not all for I certainly did not fool your clan or the Copy-Nin, but you were just a child. I knew you would be special.”

 

Sasuke let loose a bitter laugh. “You placed your bet on the wrong person. I’m sorry but I am nothing special.”

 

“Or maybe you’re wrong,” was the gentle riposte by Sorata. “His Majesty Garuda believes in you.”

 

It felt such a stinging blow to Sasuke. Perhaps he is wrong in thinking he had fled the weight of expectation. He looked down on his oh so useless hands.

 

“I’m not Kenshin,” Sasuke whispered. “I’m not Indra.”

 

“Of course not, but you are Uchiha.”

 

How wrong he was. It seemed the world would not let him go.

 

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Let us return to the history of the Land of the Wind with it’s toil and burden the first Emperor could not revoke. Even Jimmu’s descendants could do nothing. All succeeding emperors and their heirs came, yet the land remained stubbornly barren. So the people endured for countless of generations, working in the cursed sands with nothing but bleached bone in return.

 

One day the then Crown Prince Indra was passing through the wasteland that was Wind. The Prince was traveling as the Imperial Justice. An important symbol of imperial power, for in his role he roamed the land to hear the cries, cares and disputes of men, and to render judgement and justice in the Emperor’s stead.

 

He was attacked by a young man named Oda. Barely a man, more of a boy, Oda was filled with fire and rage at the fate he and his people for forced to endure. Hot blooded Oda was the descendant of the mischievous boy who brought about the curse that plagued the land. He had long despaired of their fate. Had always refused to accept such cruelty for something so small.

 

Crown Prince Indra listened to such a tale. A monk had come to beg for Oda’s foolish life for how could a little boy be able to catch the warrior prince and his cohort of loyal men unaware?

 

Indra and his cohort watched as the bedraggled populace echoed the monk’s entreaties while their tale of woe unfolded.

 

“Mercy,” they cried out for the boy who had toiled as much as them. For the boy who defied the wrathful sun to hunt and scavenge so that there would be enough to eat.

 

“Kill me you coward,” Oda taunted. “You’re nothing but fat pigs who gorge on our misery. Oath breakers!”

 

“It is our duty to help, your Imperial Highness,” Garuda the summon king advised. He was the Prince’s most loyal man. An ancient ruler who had long swore fealty to the Imperial line in Jimmu’s time. He saw something in the young prince and had offered his sword, heart and mind to see what deeds Indra would wrought. “Yet let not such defiance pass, for he may only bring war to your doorstep. The boy feels no remorse for what he has attempted to do. If you give him mercy and the lords hear of it, they will call you weak. They will defy you at every turn until they can seize the power that is rightly yours.”

 

Indra studied the defiant boy. Looked into his burning eyes. He saw a raging courage that brought a smile to his lips.

 

“Tell me boy,” Indra spoke with a curious mien. “Why you should get what you wished?”

 

The boy gaped in disbelief at the Prince’s words. He had expected death, a last act of defiance against the rulers that have forgotten and condemned them to misery. And perhaps in the depths of his heart, he had wished to quickly end his suffering.

 

“What have you said that spoke of your dreams?” Prince Indra continued, “what have you done to reach your goals?”

 

“How can I dream when living is a struggle?!”

 

The boy’s frustrated roar echoed in the desert.

 

“Then show me you mettle,” Indra challenged as he unsheathed his sword and threw it to the stunned Oda. The Prince drew his tessen out and held it in a challenge. “Show the gods what your worth is.”

 

And so the two clashed. It was an uneven fight for the Prince was skilled and the boy untutored. The Prince simply dodged the Oda’s clumsy swings. He observed the screaming young man, and raised not his iron fan. Again and again they danced upon the noonday sun.

 

“Fight me,” Oda cried out. “I may be a fool but if there is a small chance of hope for everyone, then I will take it.”

 

Indra’s features softened. He raised his iron fan to block the savage swing of the sword.Twisted it and sent Oda’s borrowed blade hurtling out of his hands. Oda stared back in defiance, he saw his death was near. As the blade fell between the two fighters, Indra did not press his advantage. Instead he raised his arm up into the sky. His chakra glowed, dancing arm his limb and the fan it held, before he sent it up into the heavens.

 

The clouds gathered. The sky rumbled and to the awestruck men, a Kirin appeared and blasted the sword into slag. As the heavenly messenger’s hooves struck the ground, water began to bubble from the gash left by the melted blade. The Crown Prince bowed low in respect and thanks to the creature and all followed suit. With a toss of its regal head, the Kirin disappeared into a crackle of lightning.

 

“This is just a tiny thing,” Indra spoke, his gaze intent on Oda. “I do not have the right nor the power to end this curse, but I can give you this small spring of hope.”

 

The Prince turned his gaze to the horizon. He absently fingered a pouch hanging from his belt, then tossed it to the silent Oda. With fumbling fingers, the boy opened it to reveal it filled with gold sand. Bereft of words, Oda could only stare.

 

“They say,” Indra continued with a shrug. “That hardship bequeaths riches. That the gods are not needlessly cruel, for with great suffering comes great blessings.”

 

“Where?”

 

Indra laughed out loud. “Prove your resolve boy. Search the earth, toil and build instead of cursing and languishing in your fate. Master your own destiny.”

 

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Gaara released a sigh as the he finished the last reams of information gathered by their intelligence division. It was disconcerting to realise that they were inching closer and closer to war. The reports had been eye opening. More so now that they had finally found a chink in the Land of Fire’s armour, information had now become more reliable and simply more. In a way, Suna had to thank Konoha’s ambition for such a coup. This was one of the reason’s Lord Shigeru agreed to the Ise treaty.

 

Don’t let your feelings squander an opportunity,” Gaara would remember Lord Shigeru cautioning him much to his disbelief. “This will give us ample chances to gather information within the Land of Fire and initiate contact with the remaining loyal retainers of the Uchiha clan within Fire.”

 

“It’s a opening we cannot ignore,” Renji, the Suna spymaster rumbled. “We have never managed to create a reliable information network within the Land of Fire. This is our chance.”

 

In truth, Gaara was never comfortable with all the cloak and dagger Suna seemed to be indulging in. Unfortunately considering the current situation, Gaara knew that refusing to use this avenue would do the Land of Wind a disservice. No matter how governments and their propaganda want to cultivate an image of peace and harmony, it was all a lie. The Land of the Five Great Shinobi Nation’s have been in a stalemate ever since the end of the warring states era. A constant state of Cold War that had erupted from time to time into the World Wars before once again shimmering down.

 

“The Imperial line fell when Ashura, the bastard son, beguiled his father to name him Crown Prince,” the old head priest Hijitaka spoke to Gaara and his siblings in one of their weekly lessons. They had been declared as possible heirs to the title of Kazekage. These sessions was one aspect of their training and assessment on who was most fitted to the responsibility and rank. “The kingdom slowly fell into chaos, for who would trust a man without any known feats and skill? Who had never contributed anything to the land and it’s governance. Those who pledged their loyalty to such a man, were the power-hungry who knew they could manipulate such a naive and ignorant boy.”

 

“Always remember Gaara,” his father, Rasa, would mussed in one of their rare conversations. “We are always at war. Every great Shinobi nation has aspired to become the new seat of Imperial power. All the great wars have been the result of these ambitions.”

 

In fact, now that Gaara thought about it. This was one of the last few conversations he had with his father that Shukaku had been silent. Gaara would remember Shukaku hissing, _‘Be careful what you wished for. We dreamed of destroying Jimmu’s line and rejoiced when it was so. We forgot that it was better to deal with devil you know than a sinner masquerading as a saint.’_

 

It would become etched in Gaara’s mind, Shukaku and Rasa’s voices blending. His father had spoken, contemplative, “The is always a cycle between every Great War. It always begins with the nations consolidating their new borders and rebuilding. After that is all the diplomatic posturing that inevitably turns into ways they try to influence each other’s society and economy. You hear them condemn and negotiate until one day it becomes actual intervention. Then it’s followed by minor military border skirmishes until they find a moral cause to declare their war.”

 

 _‘How foolish we were,’_ Shukaku sibilant tones curled into his mind. _‘To celebrate the man whose descendant would remake us into beasts of burden.’_

 

“Bad news?”

 

Kankuro’s voice broke thru his musings. Gaara looked up to see his brother throwing him sympathetic looks, making him realise that how much his jaw had been aching with tension.

 

“Expected news.”

 

“So bad news,” Kankuro scoffed. “Konoha at it again?”

 

Gaara scowled which prompted Kankuro to protest, pointing out the shenanigans that bought about the death of the Head Priest Hijitaka and that dragged Gaara into the mess. Gaara sighed, seeing his brother’s mulish expression. It warmed his heart to know Kankuro cared, but he wished it was not at the cost of his good opinion on his friends in Konoha. The whole incident had soured Kankuro’s outlook on the Land of Fire and all its citizenry, most especially their Shinobi.

 

“Konoha is instituting steps to call for the abdication of His Holiness Sorata Yamamoto for aiding and abetting a international criminal and terrorist,” Gaara spoke, internally wincing as he saw Kankuro’s features morph in outrage. To call for the removal of the Head of the Izumo Taisha Shrine, the cornerstone of the whole religious order, was an overreach. None had dared do such as thing in all living memory.

 

“Those bloody wankers!” Kankuro spat out. “It’s the damn Second World War over again!”

 

It was a fairly accurate assessment, no matter how crude the delivery. But then, this was Kankuro, his brash older brother who teemed with arrogance for good or for ill. Kankuro cared not a whit for what everyone thought. A philosophy in life that brought him in opposition with Gaara’s friends in Konoha. Pansy assed weaklings, Kankuro would describe them. He never understood their desire to court the good opinion of all sundry, having lived all his life marching on his own banner.

 

Gaara could understand Kankuro’s frustration. Calling for the abdication of His Holiness might be a significant step to another world war. The call would essentially divide the known world into two factions waiting for any slight reason to attack. It was a similar state of affairs that bought about the Second World War. It began with a sect calling for the secularisation of the Izumo Taisha lands and its reunification as the Land of Whirlpool. The Izumo Taisha lands were vast swaths fertile territory partly coming from selected sections of the defunct Land of Whirlpool and the lands gifted to the shrine by an ancient Imperial edict. The situation was further escalated by the Izumo Taisha lands having been surrounded by the former territories of the Land of the Whirlpool that have been acquired by the Land of Fire and the Land of Water after the First Great War. The nationalistic fervour having spread to those conquered territories brought increasing calls to recreate Whirlpool and absorb the old lands belonging to the shrine. This bubbling dispute brought about the opportunists ready to acquire this grain belt in any form possible.

 

The tension all came to head at the attempted assassination of the leader of the Izumo Taisha Shrine. The reunification sect took responsibility and raised the call for independence. The border territories of Fire and Water soon followed and erupted in secessionist violence. Nearly all the nations soon followed in either a declaration of war or support for the rebels, and so began the Second Great War.

 

Although the Izumo Taisha Shrine never recovered its temporal powers as the ruler of the said lands, it was able to rebuild its influence thru a select number of treaties. They took advantage of the resentment that fermented against Fire and Water when the two nations carved the former territories of Izumo Taisha into North and South. These two section became beholden to one of each nation and were independent lands in name only. The unrest brought about by the Third Great War was also used to their advantage. These treaties assured that any attempt of interference with the shrine would most likely bring about sanctions at best, and at worst, a call to arms.

 

“What the hell are they thinking?” Kankuro shook his head in disbelief.

 

“They maybe banking on the fact that they hold influence over the shrines of Ise and Atsuta,” Gaara spoke grimly.“If they can bring another great nation like the Land of Lightning, some of the nations may follow. It may be enough of a bloc that the rest of the nations will be persuaded to ignore the treaties.”

 

Gaara’s lips thinned as he considered the current situation. Everyone knew who Konoha considered to be the international criminal.

 

“Lord Sasuke shouldn’t have acted that way in Kumo,” Gaara continued. “When he took the Yata mirror and burned all their labs down, it was a insult the Land of Lighting would never let pass.”

 

“Fuck them!” Kankuro spat back. “You know what they did to his father. They desecrated his father’s body. If I was Sasuke and I found father’s body, Temari’s body or YOUR body being experimented on, I wouldn’t have just burnt those labs down. I would make them suffer that they would be begging to die.”

 

Wide eyed, Gaara watched as Kankuro continued his rant. “So what if I pissed them off? You all are my family. I love you.”

 

It was heartening to hear it from Kankuro. His rough and tumble brother that normally never talked about softer sentiments. But then, what happened to Lord Fugaku had been horrifying that it had etched itself in all their collective memories.

 

Gaara shuddered. He would never forget that day. The whole of Suna had awoken when a roiling mass of chakra exploded into existence. It had suddenly appeared on the Atsuta Shrine and it had been by luck that Gaara and Kankuro with their guards had been visiting the shrine. They scrambled to meet the intruder, rushing to the sacred spring where the intense chakra emanated from. He would remember how Shukaku had suddenly stilled and retreated to himself. There had been a sense of fear and awe, and oddly a sense of anticipation from the tailed beast.

 

The sight that greeted them said it all.

 

Uchiha Sasuke stood wrapped in soot stained clothes. His eyes were dark and bleak. In front of him looked like two bodies, though Gaara was unsure covered they were by cloth. Before he and his men could step nearer, a chimera blocked their way. It was Garuda, much to Gaara’s surprise. Kankuro sputtered besides him, while shock and wonder rippled thru the rest of the Suna nin. Gaara and Kankuro knew about Garuda. Mitsuki had reported meeting the legends summon king, but to be honest, it had been too fantastical a report to truly imagine. But now here he was in the flesh.

 

“My Lord,” Hijitaka hobbled towards Sasuke.

 

“Your Most Reverend Hijitaka,” Sasuke spoke, his voice quivering with a suppressed emotion. “The Atsuta Shrine is the only main shrine I know and trust...”

 

He paused. The air quivered in anticipation. Sasuke suddenly kneeled down and flung off the fabric that lay at his feet.

 

Pain. A miasma of agony and despair burst into the air. It was so strong it nearly left a tangible stench in the air. It took all of Gaara’s will to remain standing. Shukaku, in fact, hissed with a front. Behind him, he could hear Kankuro collapse to his knees. His other men heaved. Some even vomited. The white cloth fluttered in the breeze. Underneath it was the mutilated bodies of two men and a smattering handful of eyeballs, blood red with the Sharingan. On top of them, a ancient mirror gleamed, stained with blood and gore.

 

“Lord Fugaku,” Hijitaka whispered in shock. “Your Eminence Kouya. The Yata no Kagami.”

 

“I am asking you allow me to use your sacred spring to purify my father and my clan.”

 

“Of course,” the Most Reverend agreed, but it difficult for any of the priest’s to draw near. The reek that the mutilated bodies emitted was so strong the priest’s had to resort to dipping blessed strips of silk onto the sacred springs which they would use to cover their noses and mouth. Buckets and buckets of the sacred water were poured. Again and again while the head priest Hijitaka offered prayers of purification until the miasma died down. Throughout it all, Sasuke stood uncaring as the hem of his Hakama became soaked to the skin.

 

When the purification was completed, the priests strode to prepare the bodies for a wake. Sasuke held out his palm to stop them.

 

“My family had been forced to linger too long in this world,” he explained as his hands began to form the rapid fire signs of the funerary Katon. His hands shook at every shift, until the last sign. His hands stilled at the last. “Suzaku,” he entreated. “Give them peace.”

 

“Step back. You’re too near,” Garuda called out as nearly all that was left of the Uchiha clan burst into white hot flames. Smoke rose like storm clouds.

 

Sasuke seemingly heard not the words of caution. He remained where he was. In fact, he looked like he was lost in another world. His stance reminded Kankuro of a puppet who was readied to be wielded by his master. It was confusing, unnerving.

 

The flames were a hands-breadth from him, but he never recoiled. In fact, Sasuke reached out to the flames with the steel tessen he held in his bare hand. He moved so stiffly, almost as if he was moving in a body he was unused to.

 

No one could move. There was a weight that prevented everyone from moving. They could only watch as the metal turn red hot. His hand and arm glowed with chakra. The air was thick and humid. It felt almost tangible. It was ready to burst.

 

The chakra laden arm was raised up. The steel fan he held glowed with such intense heat. As it pointed up in the sky, the chakra and the heat was sent up into the smoke clouds.

 

Everyone watched in disbelief as the sky rumbled. Flashes of lightning lit the grey clouds, and it parted to reveal a dragon like creature with cloven hooves.

 

Hijitaka and his acolytes exclaimed, “a Kirin!”

 

Garuda whispered. “Indra.”

 

“Fucking...hell...,” Kankuro breathed out.

 

“My God,” Gaara could only say.

 

‘ _So the heavens have decided_ ,’ Shukaku laughed.

 

Sasuke tipped his head up to acknowledge the creature. A spark of recognition flashed between the two. Their gazes landed on each other before Sasuke closed his. The Kirin tossed its horned head and cried out like tinkling bells. As it’s voice rang, it transformed into a construct made of lighting and drove to the flames in a great sound and fury of light.

 

Rain had fallen. The storm had come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -The description of a Kirin follows the traditional description which is a dragon-like creature with hooved feet and voice like bells or chimes.  
> -I've taken inspiration about the story of the monk with a basket of sand and the boy from a traditional Chinese folktale on how the Gobi desert was formed. I'm not actually sure it is a traditional tale linked about the Gobi desert, but I do vaguely remember this tale and that was what I remember. It is of course only inspired from it, as I've taken liberties.  
> -The second shinobi war of course was not described this way in Naruto. As you can see, I've taken supreme liberties on the source material. In fact, my description of the second shinobi war was inspired by a couple of historical events. Please note this is inspired only.


	5. Focault’s Pendulum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. The choices we make, the paths we take are not decided by us, but the many different choices made long before ours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part of all the politicking. Hopefully my decision to expand the whole political world and the events makes sense. I tried to not over complicate it. Please do tell me if it still makes sense.  
> As always, this is unbetaed so all mistakes are mine and if you can point out errors or points of confusion, it will be very much appreciated.

V - Focault’s Pendulum

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She was nervous. Tsunade can admit freely to herself as she with the Konoha contingent stepped into the great hall of the Daimyo’s palace. Most people would surmise it was due to the fact she had long delayed her official investiture as Hokage. Normally after their oath taking in Konoha, the new Hokage with his delegation would travel to the Daimyo’s court. It was part ceremony and part practical measure for it allowed the two rulers of the Land of Fire to meet. It gave assurance to the populace that they were protected while assuring the nobility that the military junta of Konoha still deferred to the Daimyo and their rule.

Tsunade has never gotten her official investiture. Her excuse had always been the rebuilding efforts left by the attempted invasion and the death of the Sandaima. The longer she wore the hat, the easier it was for her to bury herself in work against the increasingly troubled times. It was a good excuse to make. Don’t get her wrong, it was true, but it wasn’t the true reason for her reluctance. The honest truth was that she hadn’t been ready to face her guilt. She still wasn’t, but she had ran out of time. She can no longer afford to avoid this. Not the way the world was going.

Rising her chin up, she strode through the hall. An abashed servant tried to stop her as protocol dictated visitors must be announced first, but Tsunade ignored it. She knew who she was and was afforded to. The crowd of nobles watched in amusement at the spectacle. They were certain that this strange interloper would be shamed when the guards would bar her way. Much to their and to the Konoha contingent’s surprise, the head of the Daimyo’s guard strode to meet her. To the shock of all, he bowed in her presence and let her thru. More startling was even the chief Lady in Waiting, the de facto First Lady of the court, would show such grave respect to her as well.

Tsunade gave a brief token of acknowledgement. They were familiar faces after all. Friends even, but all her attention was at the two men on the daises. She missed them so much. She was so sorry. She had been a self-absorbed fool that had wallowed in her misery, she pushed everyone away. Now here she stood in front of her beloved father and her cousin, her companion in arms, and was slapped with the reality that they have grown old. Gone was the strong and nonchalant strides of her father, Kira Senju. Instead what was left was a frail man leaning on a cane. Even her companion in arms in all childhood mischief, her mirror image Minoru Arakawa, had become a faded image. His hair was bleached white. His face lined with age. They had lost so much time together.

“Tsunade!”

Two voices rang at the sight of her. Tsunade’s eyes teared up. It was like old times. She was such a brat, always the one being acknowledged and deferred to first.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered as she found herself wrapped in their arms.

There was a stunned silence at the sight. The all powerful Daimyo of the Land of Fire and his Most Beloved Uncle embracing a supposed newcomer in court. To others, they realised that she was the new Hokage of Konoha, but it was a curious sight as they never remembered such a young woman gracing the court. But to a select few, they would remember the young playmate of the Daimyo, his cousin, who has been the golden haired princess of the realm. They would remember that the Arakawa line had married into the Senju line in order to secure a more direct claim into the imperial throne.

To Tsunade, she cared not a whit for those. There were many things more important than the the opinion of the courtiers and nobles of the Fire court. What she cared about was her only remaining family left. There were many things she wanted to say to them. She had been stupid and selfish when she shunned them upon Dan and Nawaki’s death. She only thought about what she lost, forgetting they also lost family as well. And yet even throughout her selfishness, they had her back. She very well knew she had been able to roam, drink, gamble and accrue debts, derelict of her duty, because of them.

“Never mind,” her father whispered. “You’re back.”

“Friends,” her cousin cried out. “Rejoice! The Princess Tsunade has returned.”

Stunned silence echoed through the hall at the unexpected announcement. Tsunade had long been absent from court. Many she was sure had forgotten her or had lost any hope she would return. After all, she had been a headstrong child blinded by glory and legend when she first left to become a Shinobi. All against the wishes of the clan who had left the violence of their past and built new lives within the peaceful noble class as one of the new political class. A decision she came heartily regret when her little brother, Nawaki followed her, head spinning with her tales and a dream to become the Hokage. He died. That was the last time she ever graced the court.

“The Princess. Princess Tsunade,” the nobles and courtiers began to murmur. First, softly. Then louder, again and again until it was a wall of sound. Then as if by design, one by one they fell on their knees, kowtowing like a crashing wave.

Tsunade felt a chill creeped up in her bones as the wave of people revealed the rest of the Konoha delegation. It wasn’t Danzo’s and his ANBU lackey’s nonchalance. The elder was one of the few who were aware of the Senju’s familial alliance with the Daimyo. Most of Konoha had been fed the idea that the Senju clan had simply died out as many of the great clans had. Inoichi’s subtle bugged eyed look was amusing. It was Kakashi who gave her the pause. Cool Kakashi who gave neither hide nor hair of a reaction. He simply met her stare, utterly opaque, utterly blank. He was a mirror that gave away nothing and simply reflected her back.

And that, frightened her.  
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Yatagarasu cawed in annoyance. The three legged crow was bristling as it flew around in agitation before settling in Sasuke’s shoulder. The bird had been adamant Sasuke remained in the palace wing he had been recovering in, but Sasuke had began to feel a tad restless. It had led to him insisting he was well enough to walk through the grounds.

Sasuke could understand the crow’s frustration. He hasn’t fully recovered and even if he was, he had not regained his strength. The Land of the Summons is not a place where humans can easily live in. It was in the Land of the spirits where past, present and future was set in such absolutes it was nearly tangible. The land hummed with them. The air as well was nearly inhospitable. Saturated with chakra, it was raw and unfiltered. So strong, it could easily burn the unprepared. Men had little defence with such power. Only those who were trained to create and wield chakra would be able to stand being in the spirit world. But even staying would be a struggle for most, for such power was set in such a fine fulcrum that one little gust would be enough to tip it to destruction.

Sasuke realised this with his first unexpected jaunt on balcony. He collapsed and had found himself being carried back to his rooms. The pain that first began with the stinging sensation from his wound morphed into and electric agony of unfiltered chakra coursing thru his veins. And his mind became locked in a maelstrom voices and images he could not fathom. He remembered being set gently back to his futon while Garuda raised the barrier once again and Sorata began cleansing him of the foreign chakra that had latched onto him.

Sasuke would remember the explanation. He would remember best was Fugaku who appeared to him as he laid nearly insensate at his futon. The man’s image had been fuzzy and unclear, but he was almost real. The pressure his feet left as he walked on the tatami floors. The indent on the mats as he sat in seiza.

“That is why we never took His Holiness’s offer of sanctuary at the Izumo Taisha Shrine,” Fugaku murmured as he stared out into the horizon. “We would have simply brought war to his doorstep and would have given him nothing in return. For we would have easily been lured to cross the veils and invite destruction.”

As his father’s image turned to face him, it would morph into a young man. An Uchiha based on his features. Dressed in ornate clothes so old, it was only seen in the illustrations of myth and legend. Sasuke could feel his eyes widen in wonder.

“When the gods blessed me with the Sharingan,” the man spoke in a haunting voice. “It was an admonishment that my life was not my own. It was a test of will. It was a reminder of the promise Jimmu Tennou made when he gave up his divinity.”

A sigh and he changed into another Uchiha, dressed in a splendid armour so ancient, it defied any living memory.

“The spirits are a step lower than the gods,” the man would intone. “We are drawn to it for our blood, bone and sinew remembers how we lived in such a world. Our eyes see the strands the spirits have woven their land into, and know it to be so. But take care for we have pledged our lives to men. What has been given up, cannot be gathered back. You cannot return to the world which beckons you, lest you turn mad and destroy everything you have worked for and more.”

Sasuke wasn’t really sure if they were delusions brought about by a unconscious mind or they were truly the dead brought to speak by the threads of fate and chakra that permeated the air. Who knew for sure? It may be true or may be false. Sasuke had been protected from the debilitating atmosphere, but he had been exposed at his weakest. But this was also the land wherein the past can be just as real as the present.

What Sasuke knew for sure that he had to recover and build his strength. He needed it, to survive. To survive in both his world and this world he was given sanctuary. Sasuke found it ironic that even if he was being burdened to live, he still had to fight for it.

It was his collapse and his ever so slow attempts to acclimate that was forefront in Yatagarasu’s mind when Sasuke insisted he was strong enough to walk around the vast palace grounds. Of course the crow protested. Exposure to unprotected atmosphere had mostly left Sasuke overwhelmed from the visions, bereft of strength and gnashing his teeth in pain. There had been progress as he slowly learned to shield himself and filter the foreign chakra that clung to every cell in his body, but he had never attempted this much.

Sasuke normally had much patience. Honed by expectation in his youthful days with his family and by fear for his life when he became all alone. He probably would have listened to Yatagarasu who called this a foolish rush that most probably would set his recovery back. But recently, there was something niggling in his mind. He could not help but observed how His Holiness Sorata had slowly began to feel more weighed down. Sasuke was not naive enough or irresponsible enough to not realise that the changes he carved on the political landscape would not come to bite him and those who helped him back. He would wager that the Head Priest must be feeling the censure of the Land of Fire and it’s allies. Even in his pain, Sasuke would remember observing the furtive way they left the Izumo Taisha Shrine.

So Sasuke had insisted on the walk. Purportedly to test him strength, but also to chase down this sense of unease. He shouldn’t be protected. He should know the full measure of the consequences of his actions, so he said to Yatagarasu.

“And there is a time and place for everything,” the crow replied tartly.

Sasuke couldn’t help but smile as he hobbled around like a bloody idiot. He knew he was making a fool of himself and probably disillusioning all on the legend of the Uchiha. He could feel the furtive looks and hear the hushed whispers. It didn’t bother him. He had been a failure anyhow. His clan and all that were worthy of its name was dead.

“When I heard that Indra’s descendant entered the lands, I could scarcely believe it,” an elderly voice broke through his conversation with Yatagarasu.

It felt liked he was slapped when Sasuke heard it. For one thing, it was a blow to know he was truly not ready. This was proof he could sense no one nearing him and that all his strength was simply wrapped in surviving and moving thru the dangerous atmosphere. The other thing was that the voice seemed too familiar. He did not know that voice as Sasuke, but at the back of his mind, his acquired memories stirred. An echo of such distant past that contained such a well of hurt.

Sasuke turned to the source of the voice. He could feel Yatagarasu leave his perch at his shoulder as the bird hissed angrily at the newcomer. Sasuke saw a massive frog. An elderly specimen in a shade of terracotta wearing a tasseled hat and a bead necklace.

“Gamamaru,” he whispered as Indra surged to the forefront. Sasuke let him, but instead of tuning out as he normally was wont to do, he dared observed. It was a strange. Feeling the subtle shift in his stance, the confidence and arrogance to it. The deft nudges in which the foreign chakra was masterfully manipulated which sheer ease. The clearheadedness and the lack of pain and heaviness that this subtle yet profound shift brought about. Here, Sasuke realised the reason why Indra had been named the storm god.

“Indra. Yatagarasu,” Gamamaru wheezed out, his gaze intent on the human.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Yatagarasu cawed. His voice was hostile. “His Majesty forbade you from ever stepping into court when you broke our laws.”

Gamamaru raised a haughty brow as he riposted, “And what does a simple mouthpiece know?”

Much to Yatagarasu’s consternation, the Toad Sage easily dismissed him and turned all his attention to Indra. The old summon’s heavy lidded gaze was contemplative and weighing. Any normal creature would have withered at such a look. Indra recalled many a member in court who had reacted that way. Even now with Sasuke at his position as the unacknowledged observer behind Indra’s mind felt the sting of the Toad’s gaze. It reminded him of all the judging gazes he used to endure, but magnified. Sasuke didn’t even think he would have to fortitude to face it unwavering.

In their mind, Indra chuckled at Sasuke’s observation. ‘ _He was father’s trusted adviser_ ,’ Indra explained. _‘I am too used to his critical gaze. He had always judged me lacking and prophesied I would damn everyone with my hard-heartedness._ ’

‘ _Did you?_ ’ Sasuke asked curiously.

Indra shrugged in reply, before turning his attention back to the elder.

“You’re now an abomination,” Gamamaru observed. “Have you no shame, destroying all the lives of your descendants just so you can cling to life?”

Indra felt his lips twitch. Good-old Gamamaru was Emperor Keiko’s most loyal subordinate. An advisor who had supported his father for good and for ill. He had forgotten what it felt like to feel his father’s stinging displeasure. Whatever he did was never good enough for the man and there was Gamamaru, always echoing his father’s opinions. He had always wondered what he had ever done to engender such scorn. Emperor Keiko always saw the worst in him. Maybe it was because he had sentenced Lady Miho Arakawa to the gallows. Penance for his sin of condemning a lady to death when her only fault was she was a pawn to a faction in the court who had meant to seize power. An effective one, but a pawn nonetheless, when she became the Emperor’s mistress through their machinations and bore him a child.

Indra could feel Sasuke’s confusion. He could not help but smile at the strange innocence his young host had. It was a pity that such a young boy would be further and further mired with the folly of reality.

‘ _Legends at times obfuscate and at times simplify the truth_ ,’ Indra explained gently. ‘ _The court of Emperor Keiko, especially in the later years, was mired in infighting and a power struggle. The faction led by Lord Arakawa, Lady Miho’s father had taken advantage of the infighting to rise to power. He was able to instate his daughter as Lady in Waiting to the Empress to catch the Emperor’s attention. He used his position to hurl accusations against my mother in an attempt to discredit her clan and forced her suicide. His allies managed to bring charges of misdemeanour and abuse of power on my uncle and his wife’s clan, the Hyuuga. Investigation provided credence to the accusation, so I exiled my Uncle and the Hyuuga clan. When they overplayed their hand, I tried them for treason and sentenced them to death.’_

Indra grew silent at those last few words. He remembered being brash, bold and confident in his righteousness. The difference in his sentencing of the members of the Imperial family and the Arakawa clan by his own hand led members of the court to question his judgment. Some had found him too harsh, others had found him to lenient, but everyone scorned the miscarriage of justice. Others called him soft for allowing his aunt and uncle to live in exile and for simply banishing his mother’s family from court when she committed suicide. Many called him corrupt for letting his relatives go with their lives. A number decried him for sentencing Lady Arakawa to death when all evidence pointed that she knew nothing of her father’s machinations. She was after all the beloved figure in court. Some had called him foolish for letting the mob dictate his sentencing and cutting off his allies and turning them to enemies. To this day, he never knew if he did the right thing. For sure it bought the Emperor out of his self-imposed seclusion. Father had gotten weary of ruling and he retreated out of public life, filling his days with art, philosophy, and prophecy. He was exiled for his folly and the Emperor Keiko declared a radical remake of the government and the land. There started the reign of the Sage Hagoromo.

Indra was tired. Truly, he was. This constant reawakening to find himself living once again. Most of the time memories passed on to the different Uchiha clan heads were simply memories, but Ashura’s curse assured that he would be reincarnated into his descendants from time to time. The summons, their leaders like Garuda and Gamamaru would easily sense this. And Gamamaru, just like father, would see the worse in him.

“I assure you,” Indra replied simply. “I didn’t ask to be an abomination. What are you here for really?”

“I come to see with my very own eyes if you’ve ever learned. And if not, to give you a warning...”

“Of a sort of nonsense,” Garuda’s voice suddenly cut through the air as he strode towards their group. His appearance brought out a look of relief from Yatagarasu and a sneer from Gamamaru. Indra turned to face Garuda, noting the thunderous expression in his face. It pained Indra to see the open enmity between the two, a brutal reminder how increasingly fractured the court had been before he was sent to exile. It also seemed the Emperor’s gamble in uniting the court with the investiture of Ashura and Indra’s exile failed. Worse was that even after innumerable lifetimes have passed, the animosity festered and flourished.

“Say your piece and go,” Indra spoke wearily.

“You will bring war if you do not learn compassion. The justice you mete out will only bring suffering.”

Indra said nothing. It was the same old song he heard countless of times. Besides him Garuda and Yatagarasu bristled in irritation.

“You may scoff at me now,” Gamamaru continued. “But ask Garuda how the human world is moving in response to your host’s justice to the Land of Lighting.”

Garuda stiffened.

“You will only bring a cycle of hatred,” Gamamaru intoned. “This I have seen if you do not change.”

Indra closed his eyes. He realised this was the selfsame words Gamamaru used to him in order to dissuade him from sentencing Lady Arakawa to death. He had pushed forth with it and paid the price. Merry Osu, his brother, was lost to become Ashura, mired in hatred and paranoia. His father and the man’s closest allies waged vengeance on him. He was exiled. The kingdom spiralled into chaos. But even in all his doubts, he knew his duty. He would not rescind it for a possible fool of a dream.

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Kira Senju had always been called the modern day sage Hagoromo. Tsunade would recall how much pride it brought her as she heard her father spoken that way. One of her earlier memories was how the Fire court would giggle when they spoke her father’s name. The women would swoon, rhapsodising on the man’s poetry and prose. The men would nod gravely and attend his masterful tea ceremonies and philosophical treaties. The common man, on the other hand, would nod respectfully at the bits of wisdom he was said to have spoken of and go about their merry way. In Konoha, the ancient Shinobi clans would view the man known as the modern day sage as either similar to the Fire court or much like the rest of the populace. This is except for few of the most ancient clans who had a peculiar mix of reactions on the Great Sage and his modern incarnation. The Hyuuga’s normally would refuse to hear of it, the Nara’s would always devolve to questions and long pointed silences, and the Uchiha, well they would direct the speaker to the clan head and ended all conversation hereafter.

Such reactions had initially surprised Tsunade when she first started residing in Konoha. Later, she would remember being reassured. The other clans, the newer Shinobi and even the civilians would shake their heads and whisper to her to simply chalk it up as the peculiarities of clans populated by inbreds.

Unfortunately, no matter how much pride she took about her father, she did have to admit that he had frustrated her as she grew older. He still frustrated her to this day, more so now when she is the Hokage. She realised that her father, no matter how wise he would seem, always refused to look into reality. He spent his days mussing at ethereal concepts, never about issues that needed to be addressed. He spent his days trapped in his perfect little bubble, and when you try to break into it, he resisted. A perfect example was with Dan and Nawaki’s death. Yes, he did grieve. He did feel loss. But the strong stance she wanted from him was never there. Uncle at the time had been old and ill. Minoru was still powerless and inexperienced. Her father could have done something instead of just speaking platitudes.

“The gods will find them worthy,” Kira Senju murmured as he heard the terrible news. “For they were pure of heart. For us, this is a test of our resolve.”

Tsunade wanted her father to act, somehow. Not let her ailing uncle, who had lost all his resolve, end the second war by giving in and allying to the warmongers like Hanzo. In her youth, she thought it was cowardice. When she grew older, she judged it as the decision of the war weary. And now in her position, she realised it was a bit of both and it was an easy way out in order to maintain Konoha’s rule in the north Izumi Taisho lands and with it Amegakure. A disaster in itself, trusting an outsider to maintain their rule. Hanzo lost his grip to power and Konoha none the wiser lost their grip to the Akatsuki.

Kira Senju never did, and Tsunade swallowed the bitter pill that he was all too human. He was not like grandfather Hashirama or grand uncle Tobirama. He was all too selfish. She loved him, but he could never be what she wanted him to be.

“Tsunade,” Kira Senju chided as she sat impatiently, drumming her fingers. Her father had called her to join him in a ceremony, which she had dutifully agreed to. She had given a exasperated glance at Minoru who had shrugged back and beat a hasty retreat. Tsunade then found herself fidgeting as she waited for the ordeal to end.

“There’s a season for everything. This is the time to contemplate,” he spoke as he waved his hand to showcase the gardens. “Calm yourself.”

“Forgive me,” Tsunade sighed out. It wasn’t that she did not want to be with her father, but there was just too many to do. The world was teetering at the edge. They were at the cusp of it. She could not in good conscience simply sit by and watch.

She got an knowing look in return.

“You can go,” Kira Senju spoke with a sigh. When she opened her mouth in protest, he shooed her away. “Take care child,” he admonished. “Even with the blood of the gods, we cannot overpower the turning of the seasons.”

Tsunade did not respond. Her father lived with his sentiments, speaking and doing nothing else. But she and Minoru, oh they know the cost. There is work to be done.

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“What did he mean by that?” Sasuke found himself asking Indra. Gamamaru’s words struck a chord in him. It mocked him on his ignorance and his arrogance. He knew he created ripples in his rabid search for the truth and justice, or was it vengeance. He had no illusions that many of the things he did was for his sake and to hurt those who hurt him. But he had deliberately never thought about it, until now.

“Why so curious?” Indra replied back together with a curious tilt of a brow.

The two men were back in the mindscape. Seated in a seiza, they faced each other like mirror images of one another.

“Why ask,” Indra continued. “You never bothered before. You weren’t even outraged when Gamamura first spoke of it.”

Sasuke could not reply at first. To be honest, he initially did not want to think about it. But it would not leave him be. He found himself searching, constantly observing the comings and goings of the palace and its people.

What he saw shamed him. It frightened him. Messengers coming to and fro from the palace. A flurry of holy men and women, last seen in the waning days of the empire, so the summon servants would whisper, unaware of his eavesdropping. They would been soon followed by different members of the summon court, the generals, the ministers and the oracles. He saw the increasingly grim expression from both His Holiness Sorata and Garuda. When Sasuke tried to bring it up, the old priest would subtly change the subject.

He could not deny it, change was afoot, and he may have been the catalyst for it.

“Because I cannot stay wilfully blind,” Sasuke sighed out. He stared at the exiled prince, willing him to understand what it felt like to be so weary, he wanted to disappear from the world.

“Silly child,” Indra burst into laughter. “You and I are the same person.” He opened up his arms as if to encompass their whole surroundings. “Why else are we at your mind? My memories are yours. What you know is what I know. We even share the same soul.”

“What? I...” Sasuke sputtered, confused. He didn’t understand what Indra meant by the same soul. He had to admit though, he simply tried to focus on it because the truth of the matter is that he was still trying to find his courage. If he acknowledged it, there was no turning back. He would no longer simply be Sasuke. He would be Uchiha. But the worse thing was, he would be alone. No matter how much he railed at Fugaku, challenged Indra and the other Uchiha heads, he relied on them. They allowed him to hide when he felt overwhelmed. They were there to talk too. He felt less alone with them.

“No matter,” Indra dismissed his act with a knowing look. “You can no longer avoid this. You bought it up, there is no turning back. You have to make a choice.”

“I...”

“If you accept what you’ve become, our memories would become integrated with yours,” Indra looked at him pityingly. “But then, it’s the only way. You cannot just wander the world in a daze of a half-life, abdicating responsibility.”

Sasuke closed his eyes. He breathed deeply. No matter how much he wanted to cling to his family, they were dead. How long had everyone been patiently giving him time to grieve and live in an illusion?

So long. Too long. He really had to wake up.

“Goodbye,” Sasuke whispered as he willed Fugaku to hear his thoughts. Sasuke felt familiar rough hewn hands touch his cheeks. His eyes flew open and saw his father’s beloved face in front of him. Behind him were his grandfather, great-grandfather, and all the past Uchiha heads waving encouragingly. His eyes meet Indra who gave a resolute nod.

Tears welled up in his eyes. Sasuke nodded.

Fugaku’s arms enveloped him. “Don’t worry,” he spoke comfortingly. “We will still be here with you no matter what. You have your family’s love, but it is time to start living.”

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“This is ridiculous,” Tsunade burst out as she finished reading the letter from the Daimyo of the Land of Water. It was such an unprecedented proposal that she could not believe it when she first heard of it. Even now, reading the actual letter, it still felt too unreal that it brought her nothing but suspicion. She turned incredulous eyes Minoru. “You are seriously considering this?”

Minoru easily returned her stare, unbothered by her reaction. “It’s our best bet in preventing a war,” he easily pointed out. “The additional alliance with the Land of Water will allow us to present a united front. It maybe enough to calm the unrest and the remaining allies of Izumo Taisha would be reluctant to declare war.”

“Surely they are not so foolish as to try it again.”

“Tsunade,” Minoru sighed tiredly. “Don’t play a fool. You knew perfectly well when we called for His Holiness’s abdication we were playing with fire. And no matter how we will play his required death as an Uchiha’s judgement, you know the Wind faction would never accept it, while the independents can go either way. Many still consider Itachi as a traitor.”

It was a perfectly reasonable analysis. It was one of Tsunade’s major concerns, but she found Water’s proposal deeply stacked in Fire’s favour that she deemed it suspicious. So much so that when Minoru sent the outline of the proposal with questions as to what Konoha’s intelligence division had gathered, she immediately sent Ibiki and Inoichi to work. Even with their intelligence confirmation, she still travelled all the way to the capital to see it with her very eyes.

It was an unbelievable proposal. Even in front of her, it was too fantastical to be believed. The Land of Water was willing to completely back Fire’s abdication proposal and assist in the elimination of the Akatsuki. The only thing they ask for in return was Fire’s support in their proposed replacement for His Holiness. It was extremely generous. For one thing, unbeknownst to many, the Akatsuki was the cornerstone of Water’s influence in the northern Izumo Taisha, a territory supposedly under the rule of Fire when the land was divided into North and South. North, by treaty, was under the sphere of Fire, while South was under the sphere of Water.

Fire’s control over the northern section was through the use of a collaborator, Hanzo. There was little trust between Hanzo and Konoha, so the Sandaima tasked Jiraiya in creating a group of locals loyal to Konoha. Jiraiya started his task by identifying a group of talented young Shinobi-to-be in Amekagure. He trained these children to become brilliant Shinobi indoctrinated to Konoha’s philosophical hegemony. Throughout this period, Jiraiya was known to officially been derelict of his duty, while unofficially he was fulfilling his top secret mission. This is the reason why Jiraiya’s dereliction was only given a slap in the wrist and was played on as the Sandaima’s favouritism with regards to his students.

Unfortunately, Jiraiya’s mission ended in failure. Oh he did train the best Amagakure had to offer. Yahiko, Pain and Konan, diamonds in the rough of Amegakure. These young upstarts became so good that they were able to dethrone Hanzo and install themselves as leaders of the Shinobi village. But instead of becoming firm allies of Konoha, Pain began to play the two powers against each other, and Konoha found themselves furiously competing against Kiri in maintaining a foothold in the Northern Izumo Taisha. Then as Kiri’s focus turned inward due to civil unrest, Pain allowed them to gain a bit more influence. He then let Konoha and the other great Shinobi nations scrabble for influence. In effect, all the Great Nation’s become locked in a stalemate.

“They are essentially willing to give up Izumo Taisha lands,” Tsunade spoke disbelievingly. “Their request for our support in pushing for their favoured candidate with the elections of the next head of the Izumo Taisha shrine is really just for show. Everybody knows that it will really amount to nothing.”

“Haven’t our intelligence division confirmed that Kiri’s situation has deteriorated to the worst it can possibly go?” Minoru replied. And to Tsunade’s chagrin, she had no choice but to agree. She knew were Minoru was going. “We know perfectly well their best have either declared themselves as rebels, even their agents outside, like those in the Akatsuki have defected. This is their ploy to crush the rebels once and for all. Better to secure your country first than meddle outside and suddenly find out you no longer have one. It’s a chance in a lifetime.”

“I know that,” Tsunade sighed. “But it feels like we are pushing our luck. We do not have enough information with Kiri.”

“What would you suggest? Ignore this all and hope it will go away?”

Those words brought a scowl to Tsunade’s lips. She knew their policies have essentially boxed themselves in a corner. Perhaps they had been too rash when they conceived their retaliation against Wind and their allies. It seemed such a brilliant coup at that time to gain control of Wind’s religious institutions, extend Fire’s influence to the rebelling minor nations such as Rice Fields, Hot Water and Rivers, and announce that Fire would not be trifled with to other so-called neutral nations such as Iron, Lightning and Earth. Unfortunately, such a move opened Fire to resistance and countermeasures. And now everyone was waiting for the dice to fall.

“Obviously not,” she sighed. “I know this is our chance to secure peace in that side of the border.”

Minoru smiled at her words. It was a fond one. The same expression he used when he found her particularly one sided and naive. “It’s not just peace Tsunade,” he clarified gently. “If Water falls to chaos, it will spread to us, and the rest of the Great Nations will pounce.”

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Sasuke strode into the council room. No one stopped him. How could they? There was an undefinable change that everyone saw radiating from him. There was something in the way he walked and held himself, a incomparable self-assurance. To the summons, it was almost as if the Imperial Prince was once again walking the halls. So much so that even Yatagarasu who had been his unofficial minder had unprotestingly fluttered in line. The guards took one look at his expression and had simply let him in.

Sasuke found Garuda with Sorata and the important members of their court in session. For a minute, Sasuke was overwhelmed by afterimages of the Summon court. It was as if no time passed from the Imperial times. The council room remained the same with its painted and gilded shoji screens. Garuda imperiously standing as his main ministers, the fox Abe-no-Seimei and the crane Karoku. The only difference is that Gamamaru was no longer present and in its place was His Holiness Sorata and unknown priest dressed in the robes of the Izumo Taisha shrine.

His entrance brought a uncomfortable expression between the ministers and the young priest. Sorata, on the other hand, looked serenely content, while Garuda stared back at him with a studied curiosity.

“Tell me,” Sasuke’s voice broke through the still air. “What demands have been served by one of the great nations?”

Silence greeted him, for sure his question had hit the mark, and none of the ministers wanted to speak for their Lord. They were also unnerved by the knowing glance he brought to bear. To the summons, it was too eerie familiar like the same glance they would see so many lifetimes ago. To the humans, it felt too ancient for such a youth.

“So you have decided then?” Garuda asked instead with a voice tinged with melancholy.

A flash of irritation coursed through Sasuke at the non-answer. Unfortunately, it also brought a wave of fondness and nostalgia. Garuda had always been the most circumspect of advisers. Not because he cared about retaining Imperial favour, the power plays of men never interested him, but it was because he had seen much in his nearly immortal life. Garuda knew how one tiny thing can change much on such an immutable world.

“Need I say it?” Sasuke replied back in form.

“Of course,” Garuda clarified, his gaze was intent. “I am giving you a chance to step back.” Gasps of protest greeted his statement. The ministers and the priest, all but Sorata, looked distressed. It caused him to order. “Leave us,” so he said imperiously.

Sasuke silently watched as room cleared out, but it was His Holiness that broke the silence. The old priest, as he rose to leave, took Sasuke’s hand and spoke, “whatever your decision is, we welcome your Imperial Highness back.” Sasuke’s eyes widened as he felt the old man’s lips brush his forehead in a blessing. Sorata was then gone and the two royal men were left alone.

“You know,” Garuda was the first to break the silence. “I could never decide what to hope. I had hoped you would take the mantle of your duty, but I had hoped for you to have a quiet life. I lived with so much regret for millennia.” The hawk’s eyes were conflicted. It was the same expression Sasuke remembered seeing when he, as Indra the Imperial Justice, had decided to exile the Hyuuga clan. The Hawk had been conflicted back then, but then they knew whatever decision Indra made, the consequences would be far reaching.

Sasuke’s features softened. “Part of me wishes I could just leave it all behind, but I cannot. Jimmu Tennou pledged our line to the world of men and to stay would court madness. I could simply allow myself to be locked away, but it is not my nature or training to be useless,” he spoke before his lips quirked. “I was taught well, and one of them was you.”

“Well then your Imperial Highness, to answer your first question, the Land of Fire has declared that His Holiness Sorata has broken faith and is asking that he abdicate. The Land of Water has thrown their support at the call and has called for his replacement to come from the Tsukiyomi shrine in...”

“In their lands,” Sasuke finished for Garuda. “They are trying to consolidate their control of the Izumo Taisha lands. Surely, the Akatsuki would not allow that and they have a strong alliance with Earth. Lightning would also not allow such expansion to flourish uncontested...”

Sasuke’s voice trailed off as solemn golden eyes bored at him.

“Lightning has supported the call. Though they will not act, they have agreed that His Eminence’s decision was traitorous by harbouring the criminal, Sasuke Uchiha, who has caused the loss of many Kumo Shinobi lives. They are calling for his death as repayment.”

Sasuke closed his eyes. He knew he was to blame, just as Gamamaru declared. His impulsive decision to punish both Fire and Lightning had brought the these natural enemies together. And such a alliance of great powers would bring many to heel.

“Earth and Wind has condemned the blatant expansionism,” Garuda continued. “But they cannot move openly. Earth afterall lost in the last Great War, that is why they had to rely on the Akatsuki. The treaty forged with their defeat prevents them from moving openly. While Wind by virtue of Fire taking the Atsuta shrine hostage cannot legally muster forces in defence of His Holiness, not unless the Imperial line calls them to arms.”

“And what has been Fire and Water’s first salvo?”

“They have started with the Akatsuki and have called for a war of liberation. They have been called criminals who have disposed the rightful ruler of Northern Izumo Taisha, Hanzo.”

“And His Holiness?”

“He says the gods will decide.”

A bark of laughter burst out of Sasuke. “You will have to forgive me for the mess I’ve caused Garuda. Call your ministers and generals, we have much to decide.”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I tried to expand some of the canon events and to explain some of the inconsistencies I found in canon. This is mainly my expansion on why Jiraiya was allowed to go awol on wartime and train enemy kids to become shinobi. This is also my take why Tsunade was allowed to also go awol. Hopefully, it was successful and not wishful thinking on my part.  
> Just a note that you noticed there’s a difference between the legend of Indra and Ashura vs how Indra tells it. I do hope I was clear that the former was a legend and as with all legends, events get simplified and distorted thru time.

**Author's Note:**

> This hopefully will be a series of snapshots, a contemplation of what if Fugaku Uchiha left all the memories, stories and knowledge of the Uchiha clan and what he knew to Sasuke before he was killed. Of course this would also contain the knowledge that they were killed due to orders. I thought it would make a big difference on how Sasuke would react and his reasons. I also wanted to give a voice to the Uchiha clan and look at it to their own lens, their own traditions and reasons.


End file.
